The Power to Heal
by Phailen
Summary: Trunks' return to the future plays out differently. Android 17 escapes. Android 18 becomes his captive. A look at just what it would realistically take for Trunks and Android 18 to overcome their animosity for one another. Starts dark/angsty, lightens up in later chapters. Rated M for cursing and later, t3h softcore sex. Future!Trunks/Future!Android 18.
1. Chapter 1

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

_Trunks - Future timeline_

His return to the future was heralded by dark, cloudy skies and an abundance of both lightning and thunder lancing across the horizon. Rain fell from those clouds and made contact with his time machine as it descended to the Earth, toxic rain that spat and sizzled when it touched the heated metal plates of his vessel. The sight before him as a whole matched the dismal weather overhead. Cracked streets made unusable from a lack of maintenance, broken glass from bare storefronts long since abandoned and empty, desolate homes for as far as his eye could see.

The transition back to his own reality was as sudden as it was depressing. For not ten seconds prior he was looking at blue, cloudless skies. At buildings, whole and complete, and streets, pristine and untarnished. Aircars flying from place to place and people walking about, happy.

He could still picture his _other _family and his _other _friends waving to him as he left for this world. Mother. Father. _Gohan_. Everyone.

But he was not in the past any longer. This was a world that knew tragedy well.

Those happy memories left him quickly, too at odds with his current surroundings to be preserved. Too different. Too pure. Try as he might, they fled. Desperately though he clung to them, they escaped him all the same.

Dark skies. Ruined buildings. Not a living soul in sight.

This was _his _world.

Trunks closed his eyes and sighed. What simmering anger he had within him left even as his expression slackened.

For purpose was quick to touch his mind.

He was back in the future.

That meant it was time to find mother.

That meant it was time to end those cruel machines, once and for all.

* * *

_A girl breathes her first breath_

She woke to a man spitting orders and making demands.

Years of her life, gone, robbed from her without her consent. She was taken from the streets and changed, no longer human, no longer flesh and blood and sinew. She was a machine. She was _property._

She listened. She complied. Every demand, met. Every expectation, fulfilled.

The man was Gero. And Gero decided if she got to stay awake.

She wanted, desperately, to stay awake.

But then, when she questioned, when she resisted, she was put under all the same.

She woke to a man spitting orders and making demands.

A need to comply nearly overwhelmed her. But this time, something was different.

She did not listen. She did not comply. With 17, she killed him.

Never would her freedom be taken from her again.

* * *

_A boy discovers his world_

He wondered, at times, why he was not allowed to visit East City anymore.

He had friends there, he wanted to see them. There was an amusement park they always went to, because one of the fathers of their group was a manager there.

But Mother said no, even though he could fly, just like Gohan.

He did not like that.

He went without telling Mother.

The ruined buildings looked strange, because people were supposed to repair them. The cars were not parked right either, some people even left them in the middle of the road!

It was not until he saw a person that wasn't moving that he understood.

East City was destroyed.

And he wondered, could _his _city be destroyed, too?

Next time, when Mother told him not to go to a city, he listened.

* * *

_Trunks - Two days later_

Androids 17 and 18 ended up being easy to track down. They were just as shameless about the death and destruction they spread as he remembered. They explored human cities, amused themselves by trying out tourist attractions and killed everyone they could find, regardless of the victim's age or sex or demeanor.

All in the name of _fun_.

Because every life they found was theirs to play with.

People with families. Lives spanning decades. Bonds of friendship and of love.

None of them mattered to the androids.

None of them were spared.

'_Focus,' _he reminded himself as he touched down atop a building. It was once a high-rise apartment complex. Now, it barely stood to be two, ruined stories. Stone crumbled under his feet as he rested his weight upon a large pillar and the wall next to it crashed to the ground.

He frowned, his eyes shut, and inhaled his very first breath of air in the city. An acidic sulfur odor immediately assaulted his senses, dry and volatile enough to water the eyes. It was a product of the various fires that burnt around him, he knew. Fires that would eventually engulf the entirety of the human settlement.

Putting them out singlehandedly was a useless endeavor, this he knew from past experience.

His next breath was taken to focus upon his power, upon his goal. Around him, his energy stilled and he felt a tranquility come over his mind that came with the resolve he learned in the past.

He was here to kill the androids. To end their reign of terror.

Anything less than their deaths was unacceptable.

His eyes opened. His breath expelled. His senses, honed.

And the power of the Super Saiyan stirred deep within him.

His lips curled up into a grin and he abruptly blasted off of the ruins he stood upon, shattering what remained into a pile of rubble. His hair lengthened ever so slightly and grew brittle, shifting into the bright gold appearance that a Super Saiyan sported.

But that was not enough.

He flew around a street corner, noting one, two, three, _four _aircars laying in ruins along its length, bodies hanging out their windows, like macabre puppets with their strings cut. Countless storefronts were blasted out, the shattered glass gathered around their edges the only testament to their former state. A sign advertising electronics lay upon the cracked pavement of the road.

But he cared for none of that any longer.

Only the whispers of power within him held his attention now.

Trunks released a forced breath of air through his nose even as his eyes narrowed. Lightning, far more potent than the bolts stretching between the clouds in the sky, began gathering at the edges of the glowing, golden aura surrounding him.

A scream echoed across deserted streets and through ruined buildings, somewhere ahead of him. It cut easily through the silence enveloping the dead city.

His muscles tensed.

His anger peaked and intensified.

And he _reached_.

Intoxicating power rushed to answer his call. Heady and potent, it infused his limbs and coursed through his veins. His aura expanded and grew heavier. Rubble and debris shied away from the sheer force his power exerted upon it. Bright, blue eyes opened.

He was not a Super Saiyan Two, he could not ascend as Gohan had in the past.

But he was close. So, so close.

It would have to be enough.

* * *

_A girl learns exactly what she lost_

She was not like them anymore. She was different, strange, weird. They rejected her, shunned her, even though she was their better.

They were fools.

They wanted her to live her life with rules. With restrictions. Limitations. She was told she _could not _do things.

Never, never would her freedom be taken from her again.

So she destroyed them. All of them. Because she was their better in every way. 17 was of a similar mind. It was just them, now.

Until those fighters came, looking to destroy her in return.

She killed them too. Sometimes it was close. Sometimes she questioned if she really was better than everyone else.

But they all fell eventually – those people who would take her freedom away.

* * *

_A boy begins to understand the weight of responsibility_

He buried Gohan alone.

Mother was in hiding. Months had passed since they heard from Chi-Chi. His grandparents were already gone. The rest of the Z-Fighters were but faces in pictures, foreign and strange to him.

There was no one left but him, now.

He alone had the power to protect this world.

An unmarked grave the only sign of his passing, he returned to Mother, distraught and flighty.

She noticed the difference. She noticed it immediately.

Maybe it was the hunched shoulders, the far-away look in his eyes or the way his fingers balled into fists repeatedly.

He did not know.

But she knew. She knew what to do.

She began to plan. An elaborate scheme to end the androids once and for all, despite his claims that his power was nothing next to theirs'.

But she did not care. She carried on, heedless and determined until, eventually, she managed to find a way to travel to the past.

He learned what it meant to persevere in the face of hopelessness that day. He learned that responsibilities could only be carried, not discarded.

He learned what it meant to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders.

* * *

_Android 17 - Present_

The man was a fool.

17 was an android; a fusion of metal and flesh. To challenge him with a gun was insanity at best and absolute stupidity at worst.

Still, the man's defiance was a form of entertainment.

And entertainment was in rare supply these days.

"Tch," his sister scoffed as he seized the gun. "Just kill him with an energy blast. That's a _stupid _toy."

He grinned, inspecting the smooth, black metal in his hands. "He thought it could kill me, 18. It's not a toy."

"It _is _a toy. A _human _weapon."

"Good for killing humans," he riposted, enjoying the way her scowl deepened. "What would an _android _gun look like?"

"Who cares? Just kill him. I want to try that ice cream stuff."

"We killed the man driving that truck."

"Did we? …Oh well, we weren't going to pay anyway."

He chuckled, a grin stretching across his lips even as his fingers relaxed around the stock of the stupid human weapon. "What's it called? Zen? Sens?"

"Zeni, 17, _seriously_."

"You're the one that pretended to be human."

"I _did not _pretend to be human," 18 flicked her hair away from her eyes. "They need currency for everything. That's so dumb."

He scoffed. "_Humans _need currency for everything."

"Duh."

The old man – the one that thought a _gun _could kill them – fell back onto his behind, whimpering.

"Just kill him," 18 said again, turning away after she looked the man up and down. "He's about to pee-"

17's senses went haywire the very instant that 18 stopped talking and he jumped away from the human man, instinct guiding him more than any sort of confirmed danger.

And it was a good thing he did, for not a moment after he leapt away from the man, an energy blast erupted against the ground upon which he previously stood, blackening the pavement and sending the human man stumbling backward.

But 17 cared nothing for the human'spredicament, he turned instead to face the source of that energy blast.

"Well, well," 18 murmured, floating up to join him – _'When did I start flying?'. _"Looks like it's the kid."

Indeed, the kid with the weird hair was floating in front of them – it was that yellow color that 18 hated so much. He wore only a black tank-top, pants and boots. Secured to his back was that sword he favored.

"Yeah," 17 agreed, tossing that human weapon over his shoulder. It clattered against the ground noisily behind him. "Looks like we get to have fun again."

And wasn't that the truth?

Without the kid, he and 18 were forced into killing normal humans and exploring cities without any sort of resistance. It was completely and utterly boring. Repetitive. Dull.

17 was honestly glad to see the boy again. Beating him down was a change in his and 18's boring, daily routine.

Maybe he would even live for a week or two, so that they could beat him down a few extra times…

"Mmh," 18 hummed, running a hand through her hair. She ascended into the air further, until she was even with the boy – 17 followed her. "Where've you been, kid?! We've been looking for you!"

But the boy only scowled, lifting his hand into the air again. Energy gathered at his fingertips and 17 felt his lips twitch into a smirk.

He _missed _this.

But then, the boy – _'Tanks? Right? Tonk? No… there was an 's' somewhere…' _– abruptly dismissed the energy and glanced down at the human man on the ground.

The same one who thought a _gun _could kill them.

17 scoffed and 18, when she followed the boy's gaze, laughed too.

"Leave, old man," Tenks –_ 'That doesn't sound right.' _ \- said. "Run!"

The old man gasped and struggled to his feet.

"Honestly," 17 muttered, throwing a blast of energy toward the human.

But Thranks – _'Still not right.' _– hurtled passed he and his sister before he could really react, ending up in front of the deadly energy, deflecting it skyward without any visible effort. The old human finally figured out he was among his betters then and, without any further delay, ran deeper into their playground.

'_Slowly,' _he noted as the weakling disappeared around the corner of a ruined building and his sister scoffed. _'Honestly, even the saiyan is above those useless vermin. It looks like he's even gotten stronger since the last time. Good.'_

"Are you done, kid?" 18 asked. "No more weaklings around. No more guns either. That one thought he could kill us with it."

She laughed and 17 smirked, the idea still amusing to him.

The boy glanced up at the sky and then at the city surrounding them. A scowl grew on his lips and his nostrils flared. A minute amount of lightning flared around his aura.

"Huh," 17 murmured. "The shocky stuff is new. You moved pretty fast just now, too. Does that mean you can stand up to us now?"

"Nah, 17," his sister said, crossing her arms as Punks – _'That's not it either.' _– lifted himself into the air, until he was level with them. 18 continued, eyeing the boy: "We saw that other one do that too, remember?"

"The one-armed one?"

The boy's power flared.

"No," 18 said, shaking her head. "The other one. The one from a _long _time ago."

"The…" his brow furrowed. There had been other golden-haired fighters. "The baby?"

"No! The spikey haired one. In armor."

17 blinked. That had been the hardest fight of his existence. The last to truly push him to his limits… it had taken both he and 18 to take down that man.

"Oh," he murmured, turning again to face the boy. "Hey, kid! Do you know the spikey haired-"

"That's my father, asshole!"

"Father?" 18 scoffed. "No wonder you were so weak-"

And then, the boy was in front of her.

It was not instantaneous - he could _see _the boy move – but, again, it so fast that he found himself unable to react in time.

17's eyes widened even as the kid's fist rocketed forward, socking his sister clean across the jaw. The blonde android was thrown into the building behind them and then the one beyond that too.

Quickly, he threw his own fist forward. But the boy caught it, stopping his attack cold, before it came close to his face.

17 released a shocked breath. He could not keep up with that movement either.

'_The kid really is stronger now!'_

And then he was thrown away with a strength that his own power could not defy. Away, into another building and through a wall until he rolled to a stop amid a shower of glass and cracked wooden shelves. A glance told him that the now-ruined shop around him was filled with that _food _that humans needed. He wasted no time observing the weaklings' sustenance further and instead blasted out of the storefront, back into the street where he was previously.

But he did not see the kid. He did not see his sister. He did not see anyone.

Only that stupid gun, still on the ground where he threw it earlier.

Then, a flash of energy erupted from within another storefront and his sister was tossed, through its roof and completely limp, into the air above the ruined city.

17 scowled. The kid surprised them. Good for him.

He tensed his muscles and made to join his sister, to double team the brat, but the boy turned out to be faster than him.

The kid hurtled out of the building and ended up above the blonde android in but a moment, his expression neutral and his arms tense at his sides.

18 immediately flung her foot at the boy's head and 17 grinned-

The boy caught his sister's leg.

His eyes widened.

His sister yelped.

And the boy slammed his free fist into 18's face. He then tossed her into the air and planted another fist in her gut, then another on her chin and another across her face and still another in her gut. And another rocketed toward her nose. And another caught her on the chin and then another landed in her gut and another snaked around her hastily formed guard to impact her face again.

17, hovering only a small distance off the ground, hesitated.

His sister was forced higher and higher still into the air, under the barrage of blows that he honestly _could not track_. A fist to her face. A knee to her gut. A backhand to her cheek. A palm strike to her nose. A blocked blow that made her forearm _crack_.

Yet she quivered and shook as though twice that many blows hit her.

17 blinked.

Lightning flashed.

And something reflective caught his eye. He glanced over-

The boy yelled and energy flashed again. His sister screamed and, when 17 looked again, the kid had her by the neck. Her hands clutched at his wrist and her eyes were forced upward, barely open and quickly bruising.

"17!" She howled. "Help me, asshole!"

The boy said something back to her but it was lost in the thundering of the newly formed rainstorm overhead.

Lightning flashed once more.

And again, something reflective caught his eye.

This time, he glanced down, searching only for a moment before he found the sleek, black metal of the gun he threw away earlier.

The gun that the human thought could kill him and his sister. A weapon that was lethally dangerous to humansyet useless against them. Many of their victims began carrying them as their fun continued and their playground expanded yet none could harm them. Bullets, little metal rocks, could not hope to penetrate their skin.

Those weapons – the weapons of the weak – would never kill them.

His sister screamed again and 17 glanced up just in time to see the boy plant another fist in her gut. Spittle flew from her mouth and blood ran freely down her face.

'_Is this…' _He blinked, wiping rain away from his eyes. _'Is this our gun? Is this boy…?'_

"17!"

And then, the boy looked down at him, still holding his sister aloft by her neck.

'_She's completely at his mercy,' _he realized, the thought repulsive and foreign to his mind. _'She's weaker than him… __**I'm **__weaker than him.'_

It was an ugly realization. An unwanted thought. A reviled point. But he was an android and he did not act emotionally, not when his life was in danger. A foolish man might've challenged the boy to a fight. An idiot – _'A human.' _– would have charged into battle without a thought for his own safety.

But 17 was not human. He was not saiyan. He was not stupid.

He was outmatched.

And so, he ran.

* * *

_Trunks – Present_

He whirled around when he caught sight of flaring energy in the corner of his eye, his free hand already rising to block-

To block the attack that was not there.

He blinked, his blood pounding even as his eyes searched the ruins around him. His senses extended as far as he could reach, across ruined street after street and destroyed building after destroyed building.

But, despite the visible flare of energy, Trunks could not find the attack. Untraceable as the androids' energy always was.

His fingers tightened around the monster's throat and she coughed.

'_That was 17,' _he thought. _'Nothing else in the vicinity can use energy like that. But there was no attack…'_

His head swiveled one more time before 18 let out a hacking cough that might've been a laugh, under better circumstances. Her fingertips still scratched futilely at his wrist – they could not even break his skin, now.

"He's gone, idiot," she whispered, her voice hoarse and quiet against the backdrop of thunder and lightning and rain. "You…" She coughed and wheezed, struggling mightily to draw breath through his ironclad grip around her throat. "You… _failed!"_

Trunks' eyes narrowed and the power within him thrummed. It demanded satisfaction. _He _demanded satisfaction. An end to his fight, to this life-long struggle that was so, so, _so _tantalizingly close. These creatures were nothing to him. He could not- would not be denied.

His senses extended as far as they could reach and countless energy signatures reached back to him. They were weak, though, one and all. None were powerful enough-

"You can't-" 18 hacked and wheezed again and he tightened his grip once more, his teeth grinding together. The machine was quivering and shaking with the effort it took her to draw breath. Still, she persisted: "You… You- ack! Can't! You can't!-" She coughed again. "Sense! We're- ack! We're-"

"Shut up," Trunks growled, tightening his fingers further. The woman-thing-_machine_ began wheezing in earnest around the digits even as the power within him stirred. Again, it demanded satisfaction. He wanted to see the androids ended. He wanted to see their bodies littering the streets, like their victims, in so many pieces. He wanted them _dead._

Dead!

18 wheezed. "…Can't! –ack!"

He ignored her, instead focusing his senses once more. And again, human energy reached out to him. No androids. No damn androids.

No 17.

He growled and the power within pulsed with his anger.

18 convulsed and let out a raspy-sounding gasp, her fingers scrabbling desperately, weakly at his wrist.

Trunks glanced toward her, forcing the power from his mind.

The dissonance echoed throughout his body and, suddenly, he felt that very same power leave him. Its desire to kill, to murder, to _end _this threat unsatisfied.

And then, he was left with only his base Super Saiyan form.

But his mind… His mind was clear once more. No longer was he singularly focused upon finding 17 – a useless endeavor, he realized now. Instead, he turned his attention to the android still dangling from his fist.

He loosened his fingers, just so.

18 gasped and pulled in a deep, wheezing breath, her fingers finding renewed strength in their attempt to grip his wrist. They were still weak. Very, very weak. But she was no longer on death's door.

'_Good,' _he thought, scowling as he cast one last glance about the ruined city in front of him.

He found no android but he knew he would not. The blasted machine would already be long gone.

But… But Trunks had a bargaining chip, now.

He glanced at the… _thing _still dangling from his fist. Her eyes were open again, now. Dull and unfocused and blue, she stared back at him through a severely bruised and bloodied face. Two black eyes forced her eyelids low over her pupils and a ruptured blood vessel made her right eye run completely red. One arm was purpled and a bone stuck out from it. Her midsection, he knew, would be a mess of bruised flesh.

He grimaced.

18 wheezed.

* * *

_Bulma – Two hours later_

The piece of machinery in her hands hit the work table with a heavy thud and a staccato _clang _of metal on metal. It joined a number of its brother and sister pieces from the time machine, each in a state of disrepair. Journeying through the very fabric of the universe was no small matter, after all, and plenty of warped metal, empty fuel reserves, clogged filters and burnt out electronics were the cost it took to get her son to the past.

This specific piece of metal – an unnamed regulator that helped make certain the time machine landed right-side up – was the very last piece of equipment she needed to repair following Trunks' return to the future.

An explosive sigh left her and she put her palms on the small of her back. A more satisfied, quieter sigh left her when her spine _popped._

'_I swear it gets heavier every time,' _she mused, glancing at the line of scrap she'd pulled from the time machine. Above her, bright lights hung from the reinforced ceiling – a necessity after her first lab was destroyed by the androids – and they illuminated all that was her… third? Fourth lab? Something like that.

Slate grey metal plates covered the walls, capable of withstanding around ten seconds of punishment from either of the androids. Three seconds if they both concentrated on a single spot. That was to say nothing of the soil the lab was buried under, of course.

The work table in front of her was one of three, lining the edges of the lab. They too were made of slate grey metal, though their surfaces were marred with scratches and stains and dents. Upon the other two tables lay consoles she used in her research and experiments, tools needed to build said experiments and notebook after notebook of hand-written notes. In the center of the windowless room sat the time machine itself, gutted and looking very much like a pathetic shadow of its operational form.

Finally, on the far side of the wall only a set of stairs were present. The only way in and out of the lab.

It was spartan. It was utilitarian. It was just how Bulma liked it. No distractions, no needless chatter, no extra noise. Just her and her tools and her projects.

But right now those tools and projects were the furthest thing from her mind. She just managed to extract every bit of machinery from the time machine that needed repair and now it was her back that needed some repairing.

Repairing in the form of her armchair upstairs, a hot cup of coffee and whatever the last three still-broadcasting television stations were playing.

The trip upstairs was fast and the work to get her coffee only slightly less so. Before long, she was sitting in her chair, remote in hand with a blanket covering her legs.

But of course, as though the universe was conspiring against her, the second she got comfortable, her front door opened.

Panic immediately pressed against her mind, thoughts of the androids finding her latest laboratory always a worry. But those thoughts were pushed away swiftly by the realization that, if those monsters _did _find her, they would not be using the door.

Which meant it could only be her son, returning from his latest venture out into their ruined world.

The relief that flooded her was welcome when she rose from her chair and turned to find that it was, indeed, Trunks.

Safe and sound.

And with… With one of the androids?

"Trunks," Bulma started, catching her son's attention from where he was stomping toward the lab's staircase. Quickly, her eyes scanned his body, searching for any hint of torn clothing or bloodied scratches or purpling bruises. Much to her relief, she found none of those signs, what little blood remained on him didn't appear to be his own.

In fact, based upon the state of the android he was carrying over his shoulder, she was fairly confident _all _the blood on her son was from the machine.

Her mouth moved silently for several moments as Trunks came to a stop in front of her.

Eventually, she settled on asking: "What happened?"

Trunks shook his head. "17 got away. Ran while I was… distracted. I brought 18 back here to use as leverage."

Bulma blinked, eyeing the less-than-pristine state of the machine on her son's shoulder. "Does that other android even care? They haven't shown one lick of concern for anyone but themselves so far…"

"I don't know," he responded, shrugging. "But she's useless to us dead… at least she might have a use now."

The blue haired woman frowned, not at all pleased to hear words like that coming out of her son's mouth but well aware of the state of the world in which he was raised.

"Well," she said slowly, blinking again. Idly, she reached down to the table that held her coffee cup, scooped up the bright pink ceramic mug and sipped at the liquid within. "If we're going to keep her here… we'll need a place to put her. The lab's out, I can't have her around anything so fragile…"

"I figured we could throw her in the gravity chamber, back in the spaceship at lab two," Trunks said. "The androids never destroyed it, so it should still work."

Lab two was on the other side of West City, nearer to where Capsule Corps. original headquarters was located. They had left the spaceship there for it was anything but inconspicuous.

"Can you-" She started, but stopped once he considered the fact that he had one of the androids unconscious, over his shoulder already. "Never mind. It should be safe to bring the space ship here, now… And it should still run…"

Bulma hummed and sipped at her coffee again while Trunks tossed the android onto the ground, near the front door. The sight of the machine nearly made her gag – there was barely any skin left on her face that wasn't black and blue and her torn shirt revealed the sorry state her ribs were in – but the blue haired woman managed to center herself before she spit out any coffee.

"Is she… stable?"

Trunks shrugged again, already turning toward the front door. "Don't know. She's still breathing, at least."

She swallowed and set her cup down, tearing her eyes away from the android to focus upon her son.

"You're- How are you feeling, Trunks?"

Again, he shrugged. "I can fight if 17 shows up. Neither one managed to hit me when I found them, I spent a year training with father in something called a Hyperbolic Time Chamber in the past. I wonder if we have one here?"

'_A year with his father. Great…'_

"I mean emotionally," she said, her voice soft. "Are you… okay?"

Trunks turned back to her fully, an eyebrow quirked. "What do you mean?"

Bulma exhaled a frustrated breath through her nose. "It's just… You're awfully nonchalant about this. And… well," she hesitated, studying her son's expression for any signs of displeasure. When she found none – a relief, because at least her son was still even tempered despite his time spent with his father – she continued: "She may be a machine, but she _looks _human, Trunks… And you- The state she's in…"

His eyes widened. "Mother, this is a machine."

"Yes, but…" She sighed. Since when was her son so… severe? So exacting? Was this Vegeta's influence? "Trunks, I'm just worried your father has rubbed off on you too much. He was always so… So…"

"He _was _a jerk," Trunks murmured, something like a smile playing on the edge of his lips. It faded quickly enough, though, alongside the far-away look in his eyes. When he looked back up at her, it was with an intently focused gaze. "Do you think I'm different, mother? I can't really tell… You know, since I had no one with me in the past from here."

She shook her head. "As long as you're aware enough to wonder, Trunks… You just seem so cold now."

He did not respond.

And, uncomfortable with the silence, Bulma hastened to continue: "But that might just be a mother worrying over her son! You know, it seems like just yesterday you barely came up to my waist…" She laughed, but it felt more forced than anything. The ease with which she could once communicate with her son missing.

That loss hit her harder than anything else had in the last two decades.

"I just," she sighed again, looking down at the ground. "I just don't want to lose my baby boy…"

Footsteps approached and, when she looked up, it was to find her son wrapping his arms around her. A smile pulled at her lips even as she reciprocated the gesture.

"Mom," Trunks murmured, somewhere over her head, because he was _so tall _now! "I'm not sure if I'm different or not, but I still love you as much as I did before I went to past."

Bulma hummed, her smile stretching across the entirety of her face now. "It's probably just your old mom worrying over nothing… Your father just had such an overwhelming personality, I was concerned some of his more severe traits may have rubbed off on you too much."

Her son grunted and removed himself from their embrace, walking backwards toward the front door of their home.

"Father was difficult to get along with," he said, grinning. "But I don't think a year with him can undo what you taught me, mom."

"See to it that it doesn't," Bulma said, nodding as she returned his boyish grin. Such a handsome young man, he was.

Trunks laughed and turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. It opened with a click and he took a step out into the rapidly darkening evening.

"Oh!" He said, pausing to glance back over his shoulder. "Can you figure out a way to draw power from her or something, so that we can power the gravity room? The androids have an infinite power source in them – or at least the ones in the past did. If she's anything like that then we wouldn't have to worry about fuel at all!"

Bulma nodded, intrigued over the idea of a power source that never ran out of energy yet disgruntled over the fact that she'd need to go back down to her lab so soon after escaping it. Still, if it meant ending the android threat looming over Earth, she would persevere.

"I can probably whip something up," she vocalized. "Just hurry up with the space ship. I want you here if she wakes up."

Trunks grunted and, after a short pause, picked up the android and threw her over his shoulder again.

Bulma winced at the sound of creaking and cracking bones, but her son did not seem to care.

"I'll just take it with me," he said, turning to leave again. "Be back soon!"

And then, he was gone. And the android, or machine as he called her, with him.

The blue haired woman worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, still not altogether satisfied with her son's state of mind, but pushed those worries from her head.

She had a power supply to rig up, after all.

…Without the source.

A frown touched her lips.

In hindsight, it might not have been a good idea to let Trunks take the android with him. She knew nothing about the androids' power supplies, after all.

* * *

_Eighteen – two days later_

Hatred.

18 thought she knew hatred.

She liked to yell and shout and scream that she hated the first saiyan and then the kid after that. She said she hated her brother and the humans and the distance between all their cities. She hated how fast 17 drove those aircars. She hated how he always destroyed the clothing stores before she could try on all the outfits. She hated how she had to turn on the rides at the water park before she could use them.

She hated a lot of things.

Or so she thought.

Now… Now, she knew that it was never hatred she felt. She was only annoyed, back then.

Because this feeling could only be hatred and it was much, _much _worse than what she felt before.

Her mouth was set into a scowl and her teeth were bared in a snarl. Her breathing was heavy. Her limbs burned – not because of the unhealed breaks but because she _could not _stop thinking about that stupid saiyan.

About that stupid kid, _saint _that he was.

_He _left her here.

He beat her and ruined her fun. He spoiled everything she enjoyed. He took her away from her playground and made her into a prisoner. Her freedom. He took her freedom from her…

She _hated _him.

A breath left her lips in a rushed gasp and she struggled, mightily, harder than she had ever struggled or even thought to struggle before, to move a _single finger_ forward.

Such was the intense gravity she was under.

Such was her cage – a room that increased the strength of Earth's gravity to unimaginable levels.

But the snarl on her face lessened ever so slightly when that finger slid forward. The digit next to it followed. That much closer to the console that controlled this blasted room.

She hated the boy, the saint saiyan.

But, like him, her hatred would make her strong.

* * *

_Trunks – Present_

She looked pathetic like this. Nothing like the unfeeling killer that he knew she was.

Android 18 was facing away from him and lying in a pool of her own sweat and blood. Her clothes were stained with it. Her skin reeked of it. Her arm was a deep shade of purple and from her forearm, a bone still jutted out grotesquely. Her eyes were swollen shut and her fingertips were shredded and ruined, covered in blood.

The result of her efforts to crawl to the console that controlled the gravity room inside Capsule Corps' spaceship over the last couple of days.

She was less than half way there.

Trunks found a smile tugging at his lips as he stepped into the room – the power of a Super Saiyan flooded his veins as he did so – and crossed his arms. The water bottle he brought to keep the machine alive was held idly in his hand.

Ahead of him, Android 18 stilled. The power cables attached to a crudely made insertion on her back rattled and shook.

His smile widened. A self-made prison. Her infinite energy kept the gravity machine running infinitely.

The power she once used to terrorize others now served to keep her in proverbial chains.

Poetic justice, if there ever was any.

Trunks paced easily across the length of the gravity chamber, walking by the murderer on the ground with an ease he hoped she noticed. He continued on to the control console and pivoted when he reached it, leaning back against it and crossing his arms once again.

Only then did he glance down at the machine on the floor.

Her eyes tracked him unceasingly, the same blue that they always were. But this time he saw something else in them… Maybe it was the snarl on her face or the narrow eyed look that she barely managed through the purpled skin around her irises, but there was something…

Anger?

Trunks laughed aloud.

The android growled low in her throat – though it came out as more of a gurgle, due to the fact that blood and sweat covered the ground around her face.

The fact that she could not even lift her head off the ground was more amusing to him than it should have been.

"Look at you," he breathed, setting the water bottle on the floor, by his feet. That done, he raised himself back up to stare into her eyes again. "The murderous machine. The fearsome android. Groveling-"

"Damn you! I'll kill-"

"You won't do anything!" He returned, louder. "You're powerless now, machine. And as soon as I find your brother, you won't be around-"

"Just you wait, kid! I'll kill you! Then I'll kill everyone you care about too!"

His nostrils flared

"You can't even get up off the floor."

She growled and her one good arm began shaking. Slowly, agonizingly slow, she lifted her shoulder up off of the ground. Part of her torso followed that joint, cracking loudly in protest against the pressure the machine was putting-

18 collapsed under her own weight, panting and shaking, even as one final _crack _emanated from her shoulder.

He snorted.

She growled lowly into the metal floor.

'_God, but she __**is **__a wreck.'_

He sighed, now more annoyed than pleased to see the machine in such a state. Suddenly, being in the same room as the killer was more of a burden than it was a blessing.

Unfeeling murderer though she was, she still looked human. And seeing anything remotely human-looking in this state was… not pleasant.

That in mind, Trunks walked across the length of the chamber, stooping only to grab 18's boot. He then dragged her back across the room, away from the console and undoing her progress across the floor. She remained quiet throughout the entire process, even when he returned to the console to grab the bottle of water.

It was only after he uncapped the container and spilled the life-giving liquid in front of her – it was near-instantly sullied by the blood and sweat and tears on the floor – that she screeched in rage.

"_Raaagh!" _She howled wordlessly, her beaten body completely tense yet also utterly still.

As still as Gohan's body was, that day.

The scene, unbidden, flashed through his mind. The rain, the destroyed buildings. The corpses, the ruined cars and the shattered glass. And in the midst of it all, his mentor, his brother, his truest friend lay face down in the mud. Still and lifeless and _utterly helpless._

Just like him.

His eyes screwed shut even as 18 howled and spit insults at him. His mind pounded and doubts clawed at the edges of his sanity. What if he was still weak? What if he failed again? What if he was too late, _again_?

What if, in the end, the androids would best him?

Would someone else close to him die? Would his mother…?

But then power thrummed within him. It reverberated up his spine and down his arms in a way that was reassuring. It reminded him of his strength. Strength he needed to protect, to preserve what little he had left. Strength he had used to lay low the murderer on the ground in front of him.

Strength.

He released a breath.

He was strong, now. He _needed _to be strong, because Earth had no one else. No one else to protect it but him.

Android 17 was still on the run and Cell was a constant worry. But he would overcome.

He must.

A guttural groan drew him from his inner thoughts and he returned to himself at once. Beneath him, Android 18 appeared to have broken yet another bone, this time another one of her ribs.

His eyes moved away from the woman and to the water that was slowly making its way to her on the floor. It would reach – she only needed water to live, or so mother said. The broken bones were only painful, not fatal, not so long as her breathing remained even and no blood appeared on her lips. They might even serve to humble her, unlikely though that was.

He blinked, a thought coming to mind.

What better way to humble the machine than by using the gravity chamber to train, in front of her, while she lay on the ground?

Completely helpless.

Suddenly, the machine no longer looked human.

Because how could she be anything like Gohan?

A scowl touched his lips. He pulled the sword on his back free of its scabbard and settled into one of his forms.

His loved ones relied upon his strength, after all, and he wasn't about to let them down.

* * *

_Trunks – two weeks later_

Mother was able to properly rig up a device that drew power from 18 to fuel the increased gravity in the room, given a week to work. It was more stable and actually connected to a true port worked into the android's back. Not only that, but she was able to use the android's power to fuel the coolant system as well, negating the necessity of maintenance.

Android 18 now truly and completely maintained her own prison.

It was an irony that Trunks still enjoyed greatly, enough that his desire to murder the android in cold blood did not bother him in the slightest for the first week in which she remained his captive.

But then, his impatience grew – a product of growing closer to the form of an Ascended Super Saiyan, he realized. He wanted his enemies gone. Yesterday. Allowing 17 to live while 18 acted as insurance did not sit well with him.

The people of Earth would not be safe until both androids were gone. And so long as the people of Earth were not safe, Trunks could not relax.

Android 17 needed to be found.

Bulma was of a different mind.

His mother was content to let 18 wallow away endlessly in the gravity room, a fitting punishment for the murders she committed, she said. Even better that 17 had gone quiet since his sister had been captured. Not one city was attacked. Not one citizen was murdered. It was as though the male android did not even exist.

She was content, now, to leave 18 where she lay and study her while Trunks was around to ensure the machine's cooperation.

But Trunks could not disagree more.

He wanted 17 gone.

_Gone._

That android, together with 18, murdered Gohan. The thought of that monster roaming free infuriated the normally peaceful, well-mannered saiyan enough that he spent ever increasing amounts of his free time training in the gravity room. The chance to release his pent up rage and throw his strength in the face of the blonde android was far too enticing an option to pass up.

He even shoved her over to one side of the room – _gently _– so that she had a better view.

"And just where are you going?" Mother asked, breaking him from his thoughts. She was glancing up at him from the device she was fiddling with upon the kitchen counter. Behind her, a pot simmered on the stove. "You know 17 won't-"

"I know, mom," Trunks said, throwing the towel in his hands around the back of his neck. He was in the same tank-top he wore to fight the androids. The same pants and boots too. "I'm going to train."

Bulma hummed. "I don't like you spending so much time around that android."

He shrugged. "It's the only place I can train effectively."

His mother hummed again. "I _could _make another gravity room… I've been so focused on 18's programming that even fixing up the time machine has fallen to the way side. Say what you will about that Dr. Gero, the man knew his self-learning algorithms like no one I've-"

"Mom," he laughed. "You know I can't follow when you get technical with that machine's inner workings."

"Yes, you can," Bulma smiled, glancing up at him. "I didn't raise my boy to be an idiot."

Trunks shrugged, pacing across the tiled floor to the cabinets next to the stove. He wasted no time in grabbing a water bottle from one of them.

"Maybe," he responded, busying himself with filling the container with water. "But right now, I just want to train."

Bulma hummed again but chose not to respond. Instead, the sound of running water filled the kitchen until Trunks turned off the tap. Together with the birds chirping outside, the scene became almost surreal to him.

Never did he think he would get to listen to birds chirping, while having such a mundane conversation with his mother.

Not before he went to the past.

Not before he gained the strength he needed to face the machines.

"You enjoy rubbing it in her face," Bulma intoned.

Trunks turned to find the blue-haired woman facing him. He blinked.

"Uhh," he swallowed. "What do you mean?"

His mother scoffed. "I can see you on the cameras, you know. You train… but you spend just as much time talking to… _her _as you do working out."

Trunks looked back down at the water bottle in his hands, scowling. He waited until it was full and then closed the tap.

"Trunks, I-"

"It feels good," he said quickly, his hands clenching into fists. He had to place the bottle on the counter before it was crushed to bits. "The saiyan in me likes that I'm stronger than she is."

"Saiyan in you?" Mother repeated, cocking her head. "Just where did you hear that?"

"Father."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Of course he'd harp on about saiyan pride." The sardonic, half-lidded look transformed into something unfocused. "He always did love bringing that up…"

Trunks waited, silent, until she looked back up – blinking rapidly – and cleared her throat. She favored him with a smile.

"Just be careful, Trunks," she said softly. "Don't get obsessed over this. I know what she did was horrible but- _Don't _interrupt me! …But …Well, maybe take a day off every so often? Go into the city, help with reconstruction! Your strength would be _so _useful to them…"

He frowned. "I need to train…"

A face pressed itself upon his thoughts, then. A face with a scowl that glowered at him underneath a furrowed brow. A face that featured blue eyes, pale skin and blonde hair.

Android 18's face.

He liked the fact that she could do _nothing _but watch him grow stronger. He liked it so much that he spent at least half a day, every day, training in front of her for the past week.

'_When was the last time I went outside and just… __**enjoyed **__this peace I helped create?'_

It was what the old Trunks would have done. The Trunks from before. When Gohan was alive. He would have found a park or… or _something!_

"Maybe a day off wouldn't hurt," he continued before his mother – frowning with her arms crossed - could get a word in edgewise.

He left the water bottle on the kitchen counter and set his towel down beside it, taking off toward the front door and ignoring his mother's calls to clean up his mess.

And, later, when he returned after a day of helping the grateful people of Earth recover and rebuild, he found himself feeling more alive than he ever had before.

* * *

_Android 18 – Two months later_

Her face was wet.

Not because she was in the rain or because she destroyed one of those curbside water sources. Not because she and 17 decided to visit a water park. Not even because she spilt while drinking.

No, her face was wet because she was lying in a pool of her own sweat.

At least the pool was absent her _urine_, now. The boy saiyan – saint that he was - found the smell distasteful and had taken to allowing her the use of a restroom twice every day. That good will did not extend far enough to offer her a change of clothes, however.

18 never hated her reliance on water more.

Air too, because she smelt _horrible _after almost three months without a single bath or shower. But that bastard, Gero, wanted to make she and 17 more human-like.

So she breathed.

She thirsted.

The only saving grace was that she did not hunger.

18 exhaled deeply, blinking several times to refocus her thoughts on the task at hand.

Namely, moving herself out of the latest sweat pool to form under her.

Saint Saiyan found it funny.

She started with her arms; they shook and quaked but 18 forced them to bend at the elbow so that she could lay her palms flat on the _smelly-sticky-disgusting_ floor. Pain immediately rocketed into her wrists as the pressure weighing down on them eclipsed what even her endless energy could withstand.

But she ignored the pain with a practiced ease.

18 exhaled again, this time tensing her muscles and _pushing _as hard as she possibly could. The quaking in her arms returned with a vengeance and the pain intensified. Her head remained planted on the ground; her neck was far, far too weak to hold it upright. But her torso slowly, torturously so, lifted itself up off the ground.

Five seconds.

It took her five seconds to lift her stomach off the ground this time. That was an improvement.

Last time, it took her five-point-three seconds.

The power-siphoning cords attached to her back between the shoulder blades rattled together then, forcing 18 from her thoughts when the miniscule movement very nearly caused her to spill back onto the ground.

But she held strong, hovering mere centimeters off the metal tiles as she was.

Then, she carefully began edging herself away from the pool of sweat. First, her pinky finger shuffled over. Then her ring finger. Then the middle one and the pointer and finally, the thumb. Lastly, the base of her palm followed the fingers.

A smile touched her lips and she turned – metaphorically so, considering her head was still stuck on the ground where saint saiyan put it - to do the same with her other hand.

Pinky. Ring. Middle. Pointer. Thu-

The door to the chamber whooshed open.

Her eyes widened and she tried, reflexively, to turn her head.

Her muscles strained. Her neck _twanged _painfully.

And, as a result, her concentration was completely and utterly destroyed.

Her torso fell back to the ground, splashing in the bodily fluid below her. Her arms shook and her wrists reminded her incessantly of just how strong the gravity in the room-

_Crack!_

She tried to yelp but, considering her face was half submerged in sweat, the only thing she managed was a wet gargling sound.

Her arms fell awkwardly to the ground, bent at the elbows and at the shoulders in such a way that pained her joints. Unfortunately, moving them into a more comfortable position would probably take the better part of an hour.

More than that for her right arm – the one with the newly broken wrist.

But that would have to be done later - she had a visitor, now.

Saint Saiyan in the flesh.

Her eyes tracked his movement easily because he put her along a wall in the room, the better to watch him move about with ease. There was no lightning about his aura today, thankfully, just the usual obnoxious yellow hair.

Not blond. _Yellow_. Hers' was blonde. The saiyan's was an abomination.

Still, despite the fact that the flickers of lightning were absent in his aura – for that usually made him even more unbearably smug - he offered her no greeting. He only paced to the gravity control console with an ease that, frankly, made 18 jealous. She spent days inching toward that console, only to have Saint Saiyan drag her back to her wall in the space of ten seconds.

Time and time again.

Days' worth of effort, undone in ten seconds.

Infuriating. _Absolutely _infuria-

The gravity weighing down on her disappeared and she released a breath of air that was half gasp, half sigh when her arms could fall naturally to the ground. The pressure on her already purpling wrist abated and she immediately rolled over, onto her back and out of her sweat. The power cables rattled and clanged noisily until they settled uncomfortably under her spine, forcing it into an unnatural arch, but 18 did not care. Not enough to move, anyway.

And as she always did when the immense gravitational pressure was lifted from her body, from her mind, 18 found her thoughts wandering to just how she ended up in her current predicament.

She was a captive of Saint Saiyan, held against her will in a prison cell that took all of her endless power and used it against her. She was reliant upon him for her every need, from life giving water to the ability to use a restroom. She could not move unless he willed it. She could not drink unless he offered her water _and _gave it to her by hand.

Never did 18 think she could be as humbled as she was now. Not once whilst exploring with 17 did she consider that someone, somewhere could keep her prisoner like this. The thought never even crossed her mind as a passing fancy. She and 17 were always the strongest and always would be.

Hell, her own creatorcould not stand against her. And if not the being who knew her inside and out, who could ever hope to best her?

Yet, here this boy was, with odd yellow hair, doing things under gravity that had her struggling to move her fingers.

And she was made to watch him do it, too. Day in and day out, she lay on the ground, helpless while he trained. Energy blasts and attacks that would easily kill her flying about and the only thing she could do was hope he remembered that she was there. Hope that he would not _accidentally _hit her, because that was basically how much her life was worth, now – a stray energy blast from one immensely more powerful than her.

All she had was hope to defend herself. Hope that she was worth keeping alive. Hope that he would remember she was there.

Otherwise, she was _powerless_.

She raged against that thought, in the first week of her captivity, before her situation really set in. Spending eighteen years as one of the most powerful beings on the planet, without having to ever truly worry about someone besting her, made the thought that she was weaker than anyone but 17 anathema to her. It bordered on an impossibility before Saint Saiyan found them that day. It would not happen. It could not happen.

Android 18 knew her lot on this planet – as one of the strong, not one of the weak.

And then, she had all her arrogance and freedom and power ripped brutally away from her. Tossed to the side in a prison of her own making.

She fought and struggled against the gravity in the room in the beginning, dragging herself with her hands and her feet and even her _teeth _to reach that damnable console.

Only to have the gracious Saint Saiyan deem her worthy enough to bless with his presence.

And promptly drag her back to where she started.

So she raged more. To see all of her work undone so nonchalantly, so _easily_ enraged 18 in a way she did not know was possible. In a way so foreign to her that she did not know how to handle it.

She had never been so _mad _before!

But 18 never truly knew anger before becoming the saiyan's captive, she knew that now. There was never a reason to feel it. She and 18 did what they wanted to do. Her brother was the only source of frustration in her life and he was never, _never _as infuriating as this.

To see her strength so belittled… Strength that she was so proud of… The rage she felt stressed the very limits of her body. It fed her with adrenaline the likes of which she had never felt and clouded her mind so completely that some memories from back then were nothing more than glimpses of bloodied fingers clawing their way across metal tiles.

But she remembered the general scope of those days well, regardless, even two months after they happened. That was before she accepted that her life was in Saint Saiyan's hands. Before she realized that she _could not _escape. Before she realized how low she had fallen.

That was about when the desperation set in. She began speaking to the saiyan when he came to train. Pleading with him to set her free. Promising not to do anything he did not want her to do. Promising to go and stay in a _normal _prison with humans. Promising to help him hunt down her own brother.

Anythingto get out.

She begged. She pleaded. She cried out for mercy only to be ignored time and time again by the boy. Until she realized it was not going to work.

So she sulked, sipping at the water when the boy spilled it in front of her mouth – where her sweat and even her urine lay pooled – but otherwise not doing much of anything. She hibernated a lot then, thankful for her ability to close off the outside world entirely in a mockery of what humanity called sleep.

It made the days go by quicker. The only times she needed to wake were when she drank her sweat-urine-water and when the need to get rid of that water grew too strong to ignore.

But then, two weeks and three days after she found herself a captive of saint saiyan, something changed in the boy's demeanor.

He lowered the gravity just enough for her to move, just long enough for her to stumble to the bathroom and take care of her bladder. Then, put her back against her wall – cleaned of her bodily fluids – and raised the gravity up again.

She did not tell him – and she neverwould – but those few minutes where she could just… _move _were easily the best moments of her life. To have something she took for granted ripped so suddenly from her angered and then humbled her completely and utterly.

Until that day, 18 thought she would never be able to move again. She was becoming used to the idea too.

But then Saint Saiyan let her get up.

It might've seemed a small thing to do for someone who could move every day, but to her, it meant the world.

And he kept doing it too. He kept letting her up to empty her bladder. He even let her stay standing for thirteen seconds longer than normal five days ago.

Not only that, but he began pouring the water directly into her mouth, rather than having her lap it up from the ground.

It left 18 incredibly conflicted.

She loathed the saiyan and his guts. She wanted him to die a horrible death only after witnessing every one he loved killed in the same horrible manner. Then she wanted _him _to spend two and a half months under gravity intense enough that he could not move. Then – and only then – would she allow him the release death offered.

But she also understood him. She understood what it meant to be utterly helpless in the face of someone stronger, now. She understood how her human victims felt. She understood even what Saint Saiyan felt when they killed that one-armed man.

Perspective.

She knew what it meant to hate someone with every fiber of her being, like he hated her and 17.

Because she hated him that much, too.

But, despite desperately _wanting _to, she could not, for the life of her, turn that hatred into a desire to kill him beyond idle fantasies.

Instead, the only thing she felt for him was profound _respect_.

Because she understood.

Because he grew stronger than his tormentors.

He did what she wanted- _needed _to do.

And so, she respected him. He was her tormentor. Her inspiration. Her standard to beat. Her encouragement to keep trying, to keep going.

Surpassing him became her reason to live.

* * *

_Trunks_

The android was staring at the ceiling again.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest even as the power of a Super Saiyan faded. Idly, he leaned back against the control console, the whirring of the gravitational energy dying down in the background. His eyes, not quite as blue as they were before, narrowed when they took in the sight of the blonde's swelling wrist.

She must have been trying to move herself again.

Watching her struggle across the floor with the clumsiness of a toddler was funny to him, once upon a time. For perhaps the first week-and-a-half she spent here, captive in the gravity chamber, he found the sight of the once terrifying machine trying to _crawl_ utterly hilarious. Almost cathartically funny – seeing the monster he feared for his _entire life _lying at his feet did wonders for his self-confidence. To that end, he would taunt her for hours as a Super Saiyan, watching with glee as she became more and more furious until, inevitably, she would injure herself trying to move.

But then, she stopped rising to his taunts. She stopped howling and screaming and cursing at him. She stopped scowling and gnashing her teeth and reacting to his jeers… Instead… Instead she started _begging _him for her life. For her freedom. For anything and everything.

And that infuriated Trunks. That caused a red-hot fire to course through him that, the first time it happened, he had to leave the gravity chamber lest he end the android then and there.

Because how dare she?

How dare she beg for her own life when she ignored so many others begging for theirs'? How dare she think, even for a second, that she deserved to live while the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, she killed did not?

It was the first time Trunks saw her as something more than a murderous robot, unfeeling and capable only of causing misery.

That day, he learned she could _fear_.

Because he heard it in her voice. He heard the desperation, the pleading, pathetic mewl that spilled from her lips. It was like nothing he'd ever heard from her before.

It made him feel sorry for her, for a split second, because she looked truly pathetic in a puddle of her own bodily fluids.

And that pity made him feel anger. Anger that this machine would try to appeal to his sense of good when she so clearly had no right. Anger that this machine would even begin to think herself as anything more than a violent monster.

Anger that he _saw _her as something more than a violent monster.

Because, when all her arrogance and power were stripped away, she was nothing but a girl afraid for her life.

A girl that probably never even knew how to fear for her life, until that moment.

In some ways, she was more ignorant than a child.

Trunks came to that realization the day his mother made him venture into the city, to help humanity rebuild. The breath of fresh air had been just what he needed to clear his head and come to terms with his emotions, with his thoughts.

Galling it was to admit, he came to see 18 as something more than a cold-blooded killer that day. She knew nothing but violence, from the very second she awoke in Dr. Gero's lab. She did not know how to do anything but taunt and jeer and kill. It tainted her every thought, even when she and her brother explored all Earth had to offer.

Amusement parks were fun not only because of the rides and game stalls, but because there were so many humans to hunt.

Malls were made for shopping and trying on clothes but also chasing shoppers through narrow corridors, like a perverted game of hide-and-seek.

Cars were thrilling because they went so fast and sounded cool, but so too were they appealing because she and her brother could run down humans in them.

It took Trunks a day to really, truly come to terms with what 18 was, so much that he very nearly killed her through dehydration.

But after that day, he listened to her pleas and her begging but did not react to it. She had just as much a right to fear for her life as any of her victims, but that did not mean her crimes could be so simply forgotten.

She was a murderer, plain and simple.

A murderer that, unfortunately, learned that killing was how one lived very, very early in her twisted life.

So, yes, Trunks pitied her. It galled him, early on, but he knew it was true. He was too empathetic to not see her side of the story, despite the mind-numbing fear she and her brother put him through for his entire life.

Father would be so disappointed.

But mother was another story. When he told her about his thoughts, she smiled that wide smile of hers' – the one he so loved to receive – and told him it was a mature opinion to have.

"_I am-" she'd said, swallowing heavily, her eyes shining. "I am __**so **__proud of you, Trunks."_

That did not make it any less distasteful, in the beginning.

But regardless of his personal hesitance, he began feeding Android 18 water from the bottle directly and even let her up to use the bathroom twice a day. Not long enough for a shower – the spaceship that contained the gravity chamber did not have one anyway. He allowed her enough time to empty her bladder. No more, no less.

The look she gave him on the first day he did that only made him pity her more.

It was a mixture of shock, gratitude and utter confusion. She went into the bathroom slack-jawed, with both her eyebrows arched up and a shuffle to her step that betrayed her lack of understanding. When she came out, it was with an utterly expressionless look on her face. That remained true even as she submissively walked back to her wall, promptly laid down and allowed him to reattach the energy-draining coils without so much as a whispered insult.

Confusing, but it became almost a ritual to Trunks. To them. He would lift the gravity, she would roll onto her back and stare at the ceiling. He would grunt something short and simple at her, she would gingerly lift herself off the floor and walk over to him. He would remove the coils from her back. She would proceed to the bathroom, the same blank look on her face, then return to her wall once she was done. The coils would be reattached and he would increase the gravity again.

It always happened. If not for the alertness to her gaze, Trunk's might've thought her a walking coma patient.

But this time… this time it was different.

"18," he grunted.

She blinked, once, then picked herself up off the floor with the same level of care she always did. Her wrist was certainly broken – again. That was her weak wrist. The one she broke four times previously. It never healed correctly; it never really healed at all. Trunks wasn't even sure if it broke in the same place each time, and it looked a mangled mess because of it.

The android's arms were no better off. He broke her left arm in the fight that saw him take her captive. She managed to break that same arm two more times and her right forearm once while in the gravity chamber. Her ribs were broken during that original fight but they had probably healed improperly, given the immense pressure they were under. Add to that the other breaks they suffered in the room and they were probably in a sorry state too.

She would need a sensu bean if she agreed, of that there was no doubt in Trunks' mind.

And that was just about the only thing he was sure of, then. Because he was about to offer the machine a limited amount of freedom. Monitored and backed by a kill switch she _would _let them install, but freedom nonetheless.

A second chance.

He hoped, truly, that Gohan would understand.

Movement in front of him shook him from his thoughts and he very, very nearly lashed out when he realized Android 18 was standing in front of him, an expectant arch to one single eyebrow.

She could take the coils off herself – they were attached with a simple twist-and-click mechanism – but… perhaps they had both grown used to their routine?

The return to normality was a welcome calming agent to his nervous thoughts anyway.

He detached the coils after a minor delay, something that garnered him a narrowing of the eyes from the machine, but she did not comment and shuffled off to the bathroom without further delay.

Trunks, for his part, turned and shut down the gravity machine entirely.

It died with a low hum of power and then the room became completely silent.

And in that silence, his doubts returned to him.

Did she deserve this?

He did not know.

Did she deserve a chance to prove that she did?

He thought so.

Was he wrong?

He certainly hoped not.

Mother agreed, at least. Hesitantly and with much insistence on a kill switch that would shut the machine down if she moved more than 100 meters away from the house. Together with Trunks' superior strength, the plan seemed safe enough to allow the machine a chance to prove she deserved their empathy.

Trunks only hoped Android 18 saw it that way. She was incredibly guarded during their interactions, now. He could not tell how much she hated him – because he _knew _she hated him – or just what she would do to him, if given the chance. He did not know if she still thought she deserved to kill innocent people.

He screwed his eyes shut and rubbed at them with his fingers, his mind spinning.

Maybe this entire thing was crazy. It still galled him to even consider giving her a shot at freedom. His good sense screamed at him that this was still a murderous robot hell-bent on destruction with a hatred of humanity that was crammed so far into her core programming that even his mother could not undo it. They could always simply wipe her memory entirely but his sense of morality shut that one down before it even became a possibility.

He could not condone wiping away someone's existence like that, murderer or no. Not while there was a chance for her to atone.

Naïve of him, maybe.

Hopeful of him, certainly.

And that was what it came down to in the end, wasn't it? There was no sense of certainty in this situation. No right or wrong.

He either trusted Android 18 to redeem herself or he did not.

A chance.

One he would give her.

One he hoped she would take.

Resolve flooded his mind and pushed away the doubts. He knew what he wanted. He knew this was the _right _thing to do.

The rest was up to Android 18.

And, at that moment, the door to the bathroom slid open. The focus of his mental debate stepped back into the gravity chamber on shaky legs, her eyes downcast.

At least until she realized the gravity machine was off and the room was dark. Then, those eyes rose up to meet his own.

He stared back, his arms crossed over the same black tank-top he favored, now. His hair shifted when he leaned back against the lifeless console behind him, falling over his eyes just enough to be seen at the top of his vision.

'_I need to get it cut again.'_

"Am I going to die?" The machine asked, blinking once. No other visible emotion was displayed on her face, no movement of her lips or eyebrows or anything.

Eerie.

He swallowed. "That's up to you, android. I'm going to make you an offer and you are going to decide whether or not you want to take it."

She only blinked once more, mute.

Trunks wished he knew what she was thinking. He kept his muscles coiled, just in case she tried anything.

"You get a kill switch installed in you," he began and, _finally_, a flicker of emotion crossed her face in the form of a scowl. He continued, more at ease: "It will shut you down completely if you so much as take one step beyond one hundred meters of this place. It will shut you down if you attack me. It will shut you down if you attack my mother. It will shut you down if either of us decide you need to be contained."

With every sentence he spoke, her scowl deepened farther and farther. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed and Trunks was all too relieved to see the familiar expressions cross her face after so many weeks of seeing nothing.

"Am I too inconvenient now? You need to upgrade the gravity machine or clean up the room and so the pesky little android must be put on a leash? I'll take your deal, but only because it's the closest thing to freedom you've seen fit to offer me."

Quickly, a matching scowl developed on Trunks' face. "I don't _have _to offer you anything, machine."

"No," she agreed, looking away. She crossed her battered arms as best she could under her bust. "No. You don't."

He eyed her for a moment, a grumbling sort of growl building in his throat. "I'm not doing this because you're an inconvenience. I'm doing this because I-" An explosive sigh escaped him, but he resolved to soldier through saying it aloud. "I'm doing this because I think you deserve a second chance."

"A second chance," she blurted, her wide eyes returned their focus to him. She was silent for a time, studying him, before her eyes narrowed once more. "Oh, how saintly of you, saiyan. I live as your captive in _abominable _conditions for months and suddenly you have a change of heart? Pat yourself on the back for this one, Saint Saiyan, because I won't."

"You murdered countless innocents, machine," he said, pushing himself off the console. "You're lucky to even be receiving this much leeway!"

"I was born this way, asshole!"

"That doesn't make it _right_!"

"Fuck your right," she spat. "Strength is my right! Those weaklings-"

"Are under _my _protection," he thundered, stalking right up to her. Her eyes widened and she was forced to look up at him even as she took a step backward. "And my strength trumps yours, machine!"

The room fell silent once more after his outburst. His breathing was a little heavier than it should have been but that was mastered quickly. The eager power building within was dispelled as well – despite the exchange that just occurred, he did not want this to turn into a brawl.

The machine remained in front of him, looking away and scowling deeply.

"Fine," she said shortly. "Put whatever death chip in me you want, _master_."

He flinched physically.

"What?" 18 asked, returning her eyes to his face. Absent the bruising around her eyes, he could easily read the anger in the furrow of her brow and the flaring of her nostrils. "That's what you are, Saint Saiyan. That's what you've made m-"

"I don't want that," Trunks said, shaking his head.

"Then release me."

"I can't do that."

She expelled a heavy breath from her nose.

"Look," he started, but faltered soon after. This was not going how he wanted it to go – he _knew _releasing her entirely was not an option. He also knew that there was something fundamental in their lack of understanding of one another.

And that was the problem, wasn't it?

They had no understanding of one another.

An uneasy feeling overtook him as what he needed to do became clear, but he soldiered on regardless.

"I grew up fearing you," he said quietly, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. "When I was young, I was taught that the weak are protected by the strong. And the strong were being killed by you."

"Then they shouldn't have been so weak," she said plainly.

Trunks released a grunt that was half a laugh from his throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so, huh? They should've been stronger."

She gave him no verbal response, only staring up into his eyes. The machine was completely and utterly still, eerily so, in a way that no human or saiyan could truly imitate.

He sighed. "I grew up fearing you because you were stronger than me. My nightmares would always be either you or your brother creeping into my house at night to kill me and my mother."

"Foolish," she scoffed. "We had no need for subtlety. We would have just destroyed the building."

"Maybe," he agreed, running a hand through his hair. Some of the tension left his muscles and he sat down on the floor of the darkened room. The only person he ever shared stuff like this with was Gohan. He wanted to be comfortable when he did it with the very machine that caused him to grow up fearing for his life. "Maybe it was dumb, but I was right for thinking you would kill my family without a second thought.

"Because we were weak," he continued as she opened her mouth. "And it was because of that weakness that I grew strong."

The saiyan glanced up at the android, finding her looking down her nose at him. "I'm sure you can understand _that_, at least."

She gave him no response. In fact, she did not move at all. In the shadowy illumination of the room, she looked like she something straight from those nightmares that plagued him as a child.

He sighed again, though it sounded closer to a growl this time. "Look, I'm trying to offer you an olive branch here. This has to be mutual if we're going to make it work."

"Mutual," she scoffed. "There is nothing mutual about me being held captive here, Saint Saiyan."

"No, there isn't," he agreed. And then continued before his mind could stop him: "But I want there to be."

_That _elicited a widening of the eyes in Android 18. She laughed, a short bark that spoke more of surprise than mirth.

"You want _me _to stay here? Are you serious, kid?"

"Perfectly."

Her eyes narrowed and she laboriously climbed down to a knee, supporting herself with her good arm until her face was mere centimeters from his.

Her breath reeked.

"Look, saiyan. I hate you. I hate your guts. I hate your power. I hate your stupid yellow hair and I hate this room too. The second I get the chance, I'll rip out your innards then parade the corpse around town behind an aircar for the entire world to see. Then, I'll find my brother and kill your mother and everyone you care about too. Just because I can. Because they're all weak! I will destroy everything you love because I _can_!"

The anger simmering in his gut was hard to dispel, he would admit. His history with the android meant that every threat she threw at him was taken completely seriously.

That he did not end her then and there was, he thought, truly a testament to his resolve in giving her a second chance.

It was only after several more seconds of effort spent evening out his breath and calming the suddenly irritated power within him that he spoke.

"You don't mean that."

She laughed. This time it was entirely mirthful. "You don't-

"_No!_" He spat, yelling the word and shocking her into silence because of it. "You_ don't_ mean that, mach- android. You don't even know what you think you mean! You have no idea what you are missing and I am _trying _to show-"

"Oh _fuck _you, prick," she hissed, wobbling uneasily on her knee until she was forced to fall back onto her bum. "You self-righteous, condescending asshole! You-"

"You were made by a genocidal machine that put a hatred of every single person on this planet into you! You have no idea what we're like! None! _None!_" He was yelling now, probably red faced because of it. "Violence was the first thing you learned and you never bothered to learn anything else! I want to show you-"

"I don't _need _you and I don't _need _your… your view on this worthless planet!" 18 hollered back. A few of her teeth were chipped and one was missing entirely, a product of her efforts to drag herself across the floor. "My brother and I were just fine until you showed up, asshole!"

"You were murdering innocents!"

"They were weak! Pathetic! Useless!"

"Then why don't I just murder you, here and now!" He returned, thrusting a single hand up in her face. In his palm, yellow, deadly energy glowed with a menacing light. In the darkened room, it looked even more sinister.

And her face, now lit with the shadowed glow of his ki, twisted into a sneer. "Go ahead, _saint_. If you have the balls."

Neither spoke any further words after she was done. Only the sounds of their heavy breathing echoed throughout the darkened chamber.

Then, with one last heavy exhale, he dismissed the energy.

"Tch," she scoffed. "That's why your friend-"

"I'm better than this," he hissed, getting to his feet.

Her eyes widened and she recoiled physically. 18 was only stunned for a moment, though, before she threw herself to her feet amidst a great many popping sounds emanating from her battered body.

"_Fuck _you," she said, wide eyed. She thrust a finger in his face, only just hiding the wince because of the pain the movement induced. "Fuck. You. You're no better than me, asshole. You're a murderer too!"

"I protect people. Don't compare me to _you._"

"Fat load of good that did your one-armed friend!"

Gohan's fate stirred the anger that was simmering so close to the surface. Rage, intolerant and suffocating, threatened to overtake him. But just as it had summoned that righteous anger, so too did his mentor's name throw it back.

Gohan.

He loved peace. He wanted it more than anything. It was through him and his mother that Trunks found the strength to see 18 in a different light, as a child who was only taught violence and murder rather than a genocidal machine beyond redemption.

It was through his mentor that his resolve was strengthened, Trunks realized.

Gohan would think this was right. He thought _everyone _deserved a second chance. He thought _everyone _deserved to be protected and he was more than willing to sacrifice himself to see that through.

'_And in the end, he did,' _he thought, an odd sort of calm settling over his mind. _'What better way to honor that memory by making a friend out of an enemy.'_

Where before his introspection banished his doubts, this bout of mental introspection left him with a desire to do right by Android 18.

Truly, she deserved a chance to be good.

And to give her that chance he needed to build trust with her. To do that, he needed first an understanding. Their life views on the world were just about as diametrically opposed as they could get so that common ground would be hard to find, but Trunks would just have to keep trying until he found success.

"I think people are worth saving, 18," he said quietly, meeting her eyes. The change in demeanor and complete lack of anger must've caught her off guard, for her eyes widened and her jaw flapped uselessly until he started speaking again. "I think _you're _worth saving too."

"I'm- I don't need _saving_, saiyan," she said. Not yelled, but said.

That was a start.

"I think you do," Trunks said, nodding. Then, before she could get a word in edgewise: "I know _you _don't, but I think you do. And I promise I'll try not to hold the past against you."

Her eyes were darting across his face now, her lips parted slightly in what he thought was the closest thing to flabbergast she would ever show him.

"Dr. Gero was an evil man bent on destroying everything good on this planet. And if you let me, I'll show you what he was trying to destroy. What he was using you to des-"

"He didn't use me. Or 17. We were free. _I _was free." Her eyes were narrowed again, though there was no yelling yet.

Small victories.

"Maybe," Trunks said. "Or maybe you were doing his bidding without really knowing it… Have you ever tried speaking to a human before?"

Her lips curled into a scowl. She said nothing.

A smile spread across his face. A genuine one, even. A rare smile that did not come to him as often as he would have liked.

Because he knew where to start, now.

"Oh, 18," he murmured, watching as her eyes darted from his eyes to his mouth and back to his eyes again. He spied a hint of incredulity in the arch of her eyebrows. "You have so much to learn."

For once, the android was struck speechless.

* * *

**A/N: **I hoped you guys didn't mind the character studies (the centered text) early on too much. I wanted to give you an idea of what my Trunks and my 18 will be like, a backstory without having to dedicate a few thousand words to hashing it out. There won't be too many more, if any at all.

Also, the fic starts dark and angsty, it begins to lighten up in the future but… hell, Future Trunks' world is a pretty dark, dreary, depressing place while the androids were around to terrorize it. I couldn't really make it anything but and have it feel awkward.

Now then, onto **update schedules**. I'm thinking once a week. I'll probably start posting nearer to the end of the week after this one is released, so expect the next chapter roundabouts the 19th-20th (Probably closer to the 20th, because the Cardinals play the Mets on the 19th!)

On another note, and I'm getting on a soapbox here, so skip this paragraph if you don't want to hear a rant that may or may not offend you! Anyway: if you can't figure out proper grammar for your summary, why bother posting your story? That does nothing but turn people off of your work. Because if you can't take five minutes to figure out two or three sentences to describe your fic without making a mistake, why would anyone, in their right mind, bother reading the thing? That displays a complete and utter lack of effort that doubtlessly carries over into the fiction itself. Fix your summaries, get more readers. It's not hard! (Now watch me screw up one of mine, haha!)

**Update 02/02/2020: **General spell checking/editing.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

_Eighteen – Later that day_

The liquid in her cup was yellow, like urine. It was also warm, like urine.

Thus, it was not until Saint Saiyan drank from his cup that she did hers.

A bitter taste washed over her tongue and the warmth it brought with it quickly suffused her body. Down her spine and through her limbs it traveled, this heat, until it reached her fingertips and her toes. Her eyelids drooped in response and she released a satisfied sigh.

The first thing she drank in months aside from water, some of which was lapped up from the ground.

If there was anything her captivity taught her, it was to enjoy the small things where she could. Small things like Saint Saiyan tripping and falling on his face during gravity training or the flickering of a failing light bulb. A companion in the form of the rhythmic whirring of the room's generator.

And now, this liquid too.

She looked up from her cup – religiously avoiding the window through which sunlight streamed, for it hurt her eyes still to look at it – and took in the room at large.

It was a kitchen, undestroyed and full of a great many objects she had only seen in pieces before. Much of the appliances were great, boxy things – all slate grey colored – shoved up against wooden cabinets that were pitch black. Their contents were largely unknown to her but one of them held the cup she now had in her fingers.

18 took another sip of her drink, enjoying the way fresh warmth spread throughout her body.

Her _healed _body.

Saint Saiyan handed her a little bean when they left the spaceship – a surprise in and of itself, she had thought they were in an underground bunker because that was where many weaklings hid from her in the past.

But the bean.

He told her to eat it even though she needed no food. And he _knew _she needed no food, too. Yet, he was insistent, claiming that it would heal every single injury on her person, past and present.

In the end, she consumed the food only to shut him up and get him moving again. She was outside at the time and found she wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between her and her former prison as possible.

It took her perhaps three steps before her body began to crack and convulse. Bones knitted themselves back together, perfectly aligned. Muscle mass lost during her time spent prisoner returned as if by magic. Her cuts healed. Her bruises disappeared. The pounding in her head all but evaporated. Even her missing and chipped teeth were renewed.

All of it, every hurt and ache, gone in seconds.

She could still only scarcely believe it. Saint Saiyan said they came from 'Korin's Tower' and that she and 17 had missed it in their exploring.

'_Lucky me,' _she mused, withdrawing from her thoughts. The cup was still warm in her hands, so she took another drink from it, relishing the heat that spread through her limbs once more.

That done, she glanced up at her… tablemates. The saiyan and a blue haired woman whose name 18 did not care to remember. They were talking about something. Weather, the city, something mundane. They were speaking to make noise. The silence that formerly hung between the three unnerved them, for some reason. She saw it before in the weakling's fidgeting and the saiyan's clenched jaw.

And 18 could understand their displeasure. Silence was only nice when she wanted it. When she wanted noise before, she always had to find humans to kill.

She paused, realization touching her mind.

Maybe _she _unnerved them? Or the human, at least. Saint Saiyan was… a capable opponent for her. But the weakling was only another source of screams – an _android _source of noise, and one she preferred over the jabbering they were doing now.

A smirk found its way onto her face.

Another sip of the drink infused her body with warmth.

Then, she focused her attention on the weakling. Abruptly, more sudden than she really needed to, but it was worth it to see the woman jump almost out of her chair.

That Saint Saiyan did not do anything to reprimand her – other than growl under his breath – only made it more worthwhile.

"What is this?" 18 said, the statement more of a demand than it was a question.

"Ah-ah… that?"

Stuttering. They always stuttered. The downside to their fear.

"Yes," she said, a scowl forming on her lips. "This liquid, human. What is it?"

The human swallowed visibly and, with Saint Saiyan's hand on her arm, steeled herself. "Tea."

"Tea," 18 repeated, glancing down at the cup. "How is it made?"

The woman blinked at her, her mouth hanging open, then glanced at the saiyan. But he only shrugged.

The woman sighed.

"You boil water on the stove and-"

"What is a stove?"

The weakling's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "…You aren't serious?"

18's eyes narrowed and her lips pulled themselves back into a sneer. She planted her hands on the table and threw herself to her feet. "Watch your tone, weakling!"

The blue haired woman _did_ topple out of her chair this time and the saiyan rose to his own feet to match her.

"Enough, android," he said.

She spent a moment longer glaring down at the weakling, long enough to commit the sight of her wide-eyed look of terror to memory. Then, she sighed and sat back down.

Saint Saiyan did the same, still eyeing her, but the blue haired human stood on shaky legs and began striding toward the door of the room they were in.

"I-uh… I just remembered I have to… to do something in my lab," she said, pausing once she reached the doorway. She glanced over 18 quickly and instead focused on Saint Saiyan. "Will you be alright…?"

He waved her off. "I'll- We'll be fine. Are you alright, mother?"

The human nodded, still adamantly avoiding looking anywhere near her.

Then, she was gone.

Saint Saiyan looked at the doorway for a moment longer and she took another drink of her tea.

Silence, at long last.

18 smiled.

But it was not meant to last.

The saiyan looked at her, ignoring the way she narrowed her eyes at him over the brim of her cup, and made to speak:

"You can't do stuff like that when we go out later. You'll have-"

"Go out where? To a mall?"

His eyes narrowed even as 18 placed her tea cup back down the table, eyes no longer narrowed.

"Not a mall, no," he said, reclining in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "We're going to help a shopkeep a block over clear out some wreckage from her store."

The android blinked. "…Why?"

"Because she needs help."

Her eyes narrowed. "She should do it herself."

"She's not strong enough, android. We are."

18 shoved the cup up to her lips and drank deeply from it. Better to grit her teeth and deal with it than remind the saiyan that weaklings were below them. That would only result in _another _argument and she was, quite frankly, tired of dealing with the boy's haughty sense of superior morality.

'_Just go along with it, 18,' _she coached herself, bringing the teacup back down to the table. _'You'll get your chance eventually.'_

He grinned even wider.

She scowled.

* * *

_One hour later – Trunks_

Walking beside 18 was just about the most surreal thing he had ever experienced in life, topping even the first time he saw his father, mother and Gohan in the past.

And the picturesque environment made it even more unbelievable - the birds were chirping from their perches in trees, the sun shone warmly down upon him from a bright, blue sky overhead and a refreshing breeze caressed his skin. In the distance, he could hear the low drone of people chatting and laughing and beyond even that he could see the gleaming glass of the skyscrapers that dotted the recovering downtown skyline.

All the while, a mass murderer the likes of which Earth had scarcely ever seen before walked silently beside him.

To say he was conflicted was like saying 18 only found humans somewhat distasteful.

'_My life is crazy,' _he decided. _'Insane. Absolutely insane.'_

Said mass murderer, for her part, was doing her damnedest to glare at every living being she could see. Her arms were crossed over her chest and a sneer was planted firmly on her lips. Behind her glare, her deep blue eyes were narrowed.

If she weren't clad in Mother's old hand-me-downs – an obnoxiously pink shirt, blindingly white shorts and a hideous orange jacket – then Trunks might've been impressed.

As it was, she only looked ridiculous. He was pretty sure she knew it too.

That was likely the only reason what humans they encountered did not run upon seeing her too. That part came later, once they saw her glare and recognized her face. Every time it happened, 18's lips would twitch into something resembling a smirk

Guilt would push its way into his mind every time it happened, too. Guilt that he was giving this machine a second chance, monster that she was. Guilt over the fear he saw in every human face they encountered.

But that was tempered by a resolute belief that what he was doing was _right_. Right by Gohan. Right by his own morals.

Right by 18.

Because everyone deserved a second chance.

* * *

_Thirty minutes later – Android 18_

She hated-

No, she _disliked _this. She disliked this a lot.

There was an entire city nearby, left partially untouched by she and 17's exploration. A city with people to play with. A city with malls and amusement parks and all sorts of things she had never seen in her life. A city full of new things.

Just for her.

Yet, here she was, in some run-down old shop – Saint Saiyan called it a 'bakery', as stupid a name for a place as she'd ever heard – doing the bidding of some old woman. The shop's roof caved in sometime during the last year and, evidently, she and 17 had caused something of a shortage of humans that could repair it.

'_Fine. Not my problem.'_

Until Saint Saiyan _made _it her problem.

She tossed a loose piece of wood away from the collapsed corner of the shop. Somewhere over her shoulder. She did not care where.

'_My fault this happened, he said,' _she huffed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. _'__**My **__fault! I don't even remember this stupid city!'_

Another piece of rubble, this time a large stone, was tossed over her shoulder. It fell somewhere near the door but still caused that little old human to start screeching at her.

'_Whatever. Not my fault this happened. Not my fault she's too weak to fix this herself.'_

But Saint Saiyan's presence made it her fault, because he was stronger than her. Because he could stop her from doing what she wanted to do. Because he felt it _right _that she help this stupid little weakling.

'_Stupid Saint Saiyan. Stupid old woman.'_

Another piece of rubble was tossed away. Another bout of yelling followed quickly in its wake.

* * *

_Trunks_

"So, _this _is the fearsome android that has everybody worked up into such a tizzy?"

He looked away from where 18 was laboriously pulling the wreckage of a wooden shelf away from a wall – without destroying said wall, he'd told her that specifically – to glance at the shop owner.

A small, grey-haired lady who introduced herself as Julie.

Trunks nodded and the dark-skinned woman, clad in a simple shirt and jeans, glanced back at 18. She adjusted the slim glasses over her eyes then crossed her arms over the "Your opinion wasn't in the recipe" letters stamped onto the apron hanging from her shoulders.

Silence descended over them then, broken only by the occasional huff of exertion 18 emitted or the scuff of wooden boards being dislodged. The android was told in no uncertain terms – after she decided to make a game of tossing the rubble at Julie - that even more damage to the bakery _or its occupants _would not be tolerated. She accepted the orders with a surprising amount of levity, only gritting her teeth and nodding.

The same reaction she gave him when he told her that he would not be helping her clean up the place.

It surprised him. He expected an angry, frothing-at-the-mouth rage when she learned what she was doing. He had hoped to use it to give Julie a chance to forgive her for blowing up, thereby showing 18 that there was some good in humanity.

Evidently, he wasn't as smart as he thought, because the android hadn't so much as spat a single insult their way.

"Well," Julie stated, shaking her head and rubbing at her nose. "She doesn't look like much to me. Are you _sure _she's a deadly android?"

Trunks' eyes widened even as 18's shoulders tensed. The board of wood she was holding was unceremoniously dropped, taking with it the remains of the shelving unit she was trying to extract from underneath the collapsed roof. The wreckage spread even further across the shop's floor.

But the android cared for none of that.

She spun on her heel to face the elderly woman, a scowl on her lips and a furrow to her brow.

'_You wanted rage, Trunks,' _he thought, now suddenly reluctant, even as he moved to intercept her.

But the little old lady beat _both of them_ to the proverbial punch.

"Now just look what you've done!" Julie hollered, pointing at the rubble. "Clumsy girl! I ought to cuff you about the head for that!"

18 bared her teeth in a snarl and began stalking up to the woman-

Trunks flared his ki minutely, his eyes narrowed and his muscles tense. His plan was to get 18 mad at _him_ so that Julie could play the peacemaker. But this… This was all wrong!

The android stopped abruptly when she felt the stirring of his power and her eyes snapped up to his in a defiant rage he knew well. Too well.

He scowled in full, now certain he had to stop this before it went any further, and made to move foward-

Until Julie took it upon herself to close the rest of the distance between herself and the android, drawing 18's attention back down to her. The old woman weathered the murderer's attention admirably, though. Her shoulders straight, her back rigid, her chin tilted upward enough to meet the taller woman's eyes.

Eyes narrowed in anger with which Trunks, again, found himself familiar.

The blonde's fingers clenched into a fist.

And then Julie reached up and snatched 18's ear.

The android's eyes widened and – reflexively or out of simple shock – she bent her spine and hunched over when Julie tugged on her earlobe.

"_That_," the dark-skinned woman snapped, jabbing an accusing finger toward the pile of wreckage. "That is no way to treat other people's property! Respect is something you need to learn!"

Trunks, muscles still taut with anticipation, remained frozen just behind the women. His eyes were wide and currently staring at 18, only half watching for the telltale signs of impending violence. Admittedly, most of him was taking in the sight of a murderous, fearsome android being told off by a woman who only came up to her shoulders with no small amount of pleasure.

Said android offered no resistance. Not at first. Not physically. He could see the anger rebuilding in her expression, pushing away the stupefied look, but she had yet to act on that rage.

He really should have expected Julie to spot it too.

"Don't you give me that look!" The woman shouted, releasing 18's ear – now red and throbbing – only to reach up and cuff the android across the back of her head.

Trunks' lips twitched. His eyes widened further. He took a slow, shuffling step forward – his legs seemed to have forgotten how to move themselves.

18's face was devoid of any sort of anger, now. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hung open ever so slightly and her shoulders were lax.

His lips twitched again and he could not completely stop the snort that escaped-

"And you!" Julie hollered, spinning around to face him. Her back was to the android, now, but the old woman evidently did not care. "Don't you laugh at a woman like that, young man! I _know _your mother raised you to be a respectful sort! Savior of the Earth or no, I'll not have that under _my _roof!"

She finished by thrusting a finger upward, toward the gaping hole above her.

Trunks could only offer her a flapping jaw and a wide-eyed stare.

Murderous android walking beside him on the sidewalk on a picturesque day?

Check.

Said monster machine being made to do menial labor and not once complaining?

Check.

Said android being told off by a little old lady with a snarky apron?

Check.

_Him _being told off by the same old lady?

Yeah. That too.

Julie walked up to him, apparently unsatisfied, and this time grabbed _his _ear.

"Ah! Ow-"

_That _served to dispel his stunned silence.

Quickly… Very quickly.

"Well?!" The old woman demanded, thrusting her finger now toward a flabbergast Android 18. "What are you waiting for? Apologize to her!"

Trunks winced and hunched over further, for the woman had _sharp _nails and evidently knew exactly how to use them.

18, for her part, seemed content to flick her gaze back and forth between he and Julie. Her eyes were still wide and her jaw still hung open, but what anger she had was now gone.

"Well?!" Julie demanded again, twisting his-

"Ow! Owowowow! S-Sorry! Sorry!"

The woman harrumphed and released him. He fell back onto his butt and promptly clapped a hand over his now-throbbing ear, belatedly realizing that the blonde android had done the same thing.

"Get back to work, that rubble isn't going to clean itself!" Julie continued, having turned back to 18. "What do you think I'm paying you for?!"

Trunks scoffed, one of his eyes twitching in his annoyance. "But you aren't paying-"

"Of course I am! What kind of establishment do you think this is?" The elderly woman riposted, crossing her arms over the 'Your opinion' part of her apron. "Honest pay for honest work! That's what your mother taught you, right?"

Then, without so much as waiting for a response, she turned back to 18. "And you! Rubble! Chop-chop!"

The android, no longer slack-jawed but looking entirely and painfully lost, returned to work without any further comment.

* * *

_Six hours later_

"Well," Julie hummed, inspecting the floor of her shop, now cleared of the wreckage. She turned her eyes skyward, toward the gap in her roof. "Maybe I'll be able to get out of that hotel soon after all."

Trunks blinked and stood from where he sat upon a small chair in the corner. His back popped and cracked in protest and a groan escaped him in response. Given all the training he had been doing, the past six or seven hours were probably the longest he'd sat still in a long while.

18 stood toward the front of the shop, eyeing the old woman through narrowed eyes. She had her arms crossed over her chest, knuckles white with pressure.

"Well," Julie declared again, shuffling to the backroom of the shop. She returned shortly with a small paper bag in her hands. "Honest pay for honest work."

Trunks cracked his back one last time then bowed slightly, hands clasped at his waist. "Thank y-"

"Not you! You didn't do anything!" The old woman snapped, shuffling by him. Instead, she walked right up to 18 and thrust the bag in her hands.

He blinked, now bemused more than anything, and watched as the dark-skinned woman smiled up at the android.

"There you are, dearie. Stop by again sometime!"

18, her hand hovering near her ear, stared down at the woman, silent. Her eye twitched, then: "No."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Julie continued, smiling widely – too widely - as she gestured toward the cleared floor of the shop. "You do good work, sweetie!"

The android's eyes traveled over to the corner where she'd worked, glancing between the floor and the woman in front of her several times as her mouth moved silently. Her eyes were slowly narrowing. Eventually, she managed to speak: "I… ah…"

Or tried, at any rate. Trunks belatedly realized that she probably had no idea how to handle the situation, given he was keeping her murderous tendencies in check. That was probably her solution to every problem she didn't like, in the past.

It made a simple, sad kind of sense.

The blonde blinked, rallied herself and the hand near her ear returned to her side. She swallowed and glanced down at the bag in her hands. "This is mine? You're giving this to me?"

"Of course!" The elderly woman exclaimed, the apron fluttering with the motion. "Some of Julie's best Lemon Custard Pies!"

18 scowled and opened the bag, taking only a moment to look at its contents, then:

"It's food."

"Yep!"

The blonde blinked and one of her eyes twitched. The fingers of her free hand clenched into a fist, briefly, then went slack once more. Her eyes darted over to him, then back at the bag, and a sigh escaped her lips, a resigned expression taking over her face in the form of a minute frown. She brought the bag up to her nose.

"It smells… good."

Julie smiled and reached up to squeeze 18's shoulder.

Trunks did not miss how the android flinched.

But the elderly woman did not seem to care.

"All for you, dearie." Then, she clapped her hands and glanced skyward. "Now! I need my rest which means the two of you will have to leave." Then, to 18: "Thank you again for your help!"

The android nodded, still clutching the brown paper bag in her fingers. She glanced about the shop one last time, notably avoiding Julie, before meeting Trunks' eyes.

He nodded. "Wait outside for me. I'll be a second."

The android's eyes narrowed, and she looked ready to argue for a moment.

But then her shoulders slackened, she scoffed, and promptly flew through the hole in the roof without another word.

Trunks watched her go, frowning. She surprised him today, a lot. Clearly, he did not have as good a grasp on her behavior as he thought.

Julie hummed and, as if sensing his thoughts, quietly said: "She's a girl that doesn't know kindness, that one. Nothing a little positive reinforcement can't handle."

He watched her for a moment, then licked his lips and said: "I apologize for putting you in danger today, Julie," he said, bowing at the waist. "I did not expect... I thought I would be able to rein in her temper better."

The old woman harrumphed. "No apologies are needed, Trunks-dear. I made her angry on purpose, after all!"

He blinked owlishly at her, straightening his back. "On purpose? Why?"

"Well, because she was being disrespectful, of course! Did you see how she was tossing that stuff at us!?"

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing!" The old woman declared, going behind a counter in the small bakery and retrieving a shawl from underneath the glass display case. "She was being impolite, so I took her to task!"

"But she could've killed you," he said. "You don't- You can't-"

Julie waved him off, throwing the shawl over her shoulders. "Of course I can't trade blows with her, dear boy. She's like a super-powered alien! Doesn't mean I can't take her to task for treating us so rudely. Some discipline will do that girl good, I tell you!"

Trunks, for his part, found himself speechless. Either the old lady possessed courage in spades or she was alright with recklessly endangering her life.

The woman cleared her throat and, after glancing around the shop, nodded.

"Everything looks in order," she said, not once glancing up at the gaping hole in her roof. She turned back to him, then. "Now, sweetie, would you like me to explain?"

He nodded.

"Well, how about this, then? I disciplined you today too, didn't I? And you're much stronger than I am, Mr. Savior."

He laughed. "Yeah, but I would never hurt you. Her, on the other hand…"

"She would, yes," the woman agreed. "So teach her to be like you. You know discipline because your mother – bless her heart – raised you right. In a war zone even! I can't even imagine the stress that must've put on her shoulders. How is she, by the way? Is Bulma well?"

"Mother is doing well," Trunks nodded. "But, be like me? I'm not sure she can."

"Of course she can, dear. People can change if they want to."

He hummed, uncertain. His eyes drifted across the shop until they found the front window. Behind the letters proclaiming "Julie's Bakery" to the world, 18 sat on the sidewalk. Her chin was on her fist and her paper bag was sitting on the ground next to her.

Trunks was half surprised to see that she still had it. Part of him expected her to toss it away the second she got it… But apparently she wanted to keep it.

Yet another instance of her behavior surprising him. Maybe it shouldn't have, considering how materialistic she was but… She was just so caustic all the time, he expected her to throw it away just to spite Julie.

"Trunks, dear," Julie said, after the silence between them stretched on for several seconds. "That girl only knows how to be a cruel killer. And if you treat her like a cruel killer, how will she become anything else?"

He swallowed, conflicted.

Because he only knew how to treat her like a cruel killer, because she is- _was?_ – just that.

"I think… I think we both have a lot to learn."

And Julie smiled. "I think so too, sweetie. But if there's anyone who can teach that girl to be good, it's you!"

Trunks found an unbidden smile appearing on his lips.

Then:

"Now get out! I still have to walk back to my hotel and my hips aren't getting any younger!"

* * *

_Two hours later – Android 18_

She had never been… given something before.

It was always taken. If she wanted, she took. Dresses. Lives. Money. Drinks. Cars. Everything.

No one could stop her so no one got to tell her no.

No one, she realized now, was ever even able to give her anything before today. Because Saint Saiyan confined her and limited what she could do. She could no longer take unless he said it was okay. The things she wanted were not hers', not anymore.

And thus, _giving _was possible, now.

The little paper bag filled with the food she did not need sat beside her in the grass, behind the house. 18 herself was perched against the roots of an old, gnarled tree. She was no longer wearing that stupid orange jacket, clad in only the too-pink tank top and the too-bright white shorts.

Horrible clothes. Horrible.

She would go to the mall tomorrow and find-

'_No, I can't do that anymore.'_

She would have to _ask_.

And be _given _permission.

Her eyes narrowed.

Stupid human customs. Stupid rules. The strong did not have to listen to the weak.

But Saint Saiyan did. And because he did, now she did too.

"How annoying," she droned, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin atop them.

Still, there was… something about it, this giving thing, which was nice. A sort of intangible feeling that she could not entirely place. Like warmth in the pit of her stomach that would not leave her.

It reminded her of how she felt when she was with 17, doing whatever she wanted. Not all of the time. Most of her time with her brother was spent gritting her teeth and sighing out of frustration whenever he did something to annoy her.

Telling her to hurry when she was trying on clothes. Killing a human before she was done with it. That sort of thing.

But there were times when she was… pleased. Happy. Like when she visited that water park with him. Or when they took an aircar and chased people with it.

This warm feeling in her gut reminded her of that.

It was not entirely the same. She knew she certainly was not happy after being made to work for a whole day, being talked down to by some pint-sized weakling and ordered about like some kind of machine. But she also was not mad. She was…

Her eyes widened.

This reminded her of being satisfied! Like when she insulted Saint Saiyan and he could not think of anything to come back with. That's what this feeling was.

Satisfaction.

And the warm feeling in her gut only appeared after that human gave her the paper bag.

And, more importantly, refused to give it to Saint Saiyan.

A grin touched her lips, because that felt _good _to watch.

She grunted, pushing herself to her feet. The android then gathered up the bag in her hands and made to walk back to the house.

Maybe that tiny weakling wasn't so bad after all.

The bag indicated her name was 'Julie'.

18 decided she would remember that.

* * *

_Two months later – Trunks_

He stepped out of his and his mother's home and onto the covered front patio, the android following along behind him. The day was particularly hot and the sun was harsh. For this reason, he forwent wearing his blue jacket and only put on a white, Capsule Corps shirt with a pair of dark, navy blue pants.

The door shut behind him with a _click_ and then, promptly:

"Are we going to see Julie?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. Instead, he lifted himself off the pavement entirely and turned to regard the android once he was hovering.

She put up with Mother's hand-me-downs for perhaps an entire week before every single article of clothing in her room disappeared.

To where, Trunks still did not know.

After that, she took to walking around in the clothes she wore on the day he captured her. They had been washed – several times over – and were now somewhat faded because of it. But the blood and sweat stains persisted through each attempt to do away with them. The striped sleeves of her shirt were completely torn off and her vest had been ripped in half. A tear in her jean skirt made them unusable and her tights were destroyed too, so she favored a plain pair of jeans in their place. Finally, one of her shoes was all but falling apart on her foot.

Still, she wore the clothes faithfully. For nearly an entire month and a half.

Now, it was time to get her replacements, or so Mother told him. She was still scared of the android so despite how adamant she was that the blonde not walk around in rags, the blue haired woman would be remaining behind today.

'_Probably holed up in her lab again, working on… whatever.'_

Truth be told, Trunks did not mind. He spent most of his time with the android now, anyway. He and his mother hadn't really had a good talk without their… houseguest present for several weeks.

"Then… the marketplace?" the android asked, staring up at him through narrowed, blue eyes. "I don't want to go there. The weaklings are obnoxious."

He cast a glance over the row of houses behind him, eyeing the market that was just a block away. He maintained the stare long enough to put some doubt in the android's mind.

Then, he turned back to her and shook his head again. "Not there, either."

She grunted, stomped her foot and crossed her arms.

The gesture reminded him terribly of a pouting child.

"Then where?" She asked. "My leash doesn't let-"

"You're now allowed to go up to a kilometer away from the house."

The blonde licked her lips then arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "My leash got longer? Oh boy, Saint Saiyan, excuse me while I break down in tears."

Once upon a time he might've responded to the jab, because her murderous tendencies got herself into this situation in the first place. Once upon a time, his ire might've been raised.

But now, he was too used to the machine's sense of humor to bother.

Sardonic remarks and sarcastic jabs were her M.O.

"If you be good, you might even get to see Julie after we're done," he said, smiling as widely as he could down at her.

Her eyes narrowed, she scowled, and his smile turned into a grin.

"Smug bastard," the android muttered, lifting herself up in the air until she was even with him. "Are we going to hunt down my brother?"

He shook his head again.

She scoffed. "Then where?"

"We're getting you new clothes," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The better to hide his unease, lest it show on his face. She would hound him relentlessly if she knew he was uncomfortable going clothes shopping.

But the blonde paid him no mind. Instead, she turned toward the city, her eyes wide and a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

He found it terribly distracting, that half-smile, half-smirk. It only showed up when the android was truly happy, which was a rare occurrence. But when it did happen, it always managed to make his mind sluggish and hard to focus.

"Which store? Is there a mall? Do they have Chinese dresses?" She asked in rapid-fire succession. Her eyes searched the city skyline for a moment longer but then, they narrowed again. She scowled and turned back to him. "Are there going to be weaklings there? Are you going to stop me from killing them if they take what I want?"

And just like that, what her unbridled joy did to distract him was completely and utterly dispelled by her complete disregard for anyone but herself.

"No, machine," he said, scowling back at her. "You _still _can't kill humans."

"I don't want to kill humans, just humans that aren't Julie," she argued, hovering closer to him. This close, he could smell the faint stench of blood, sweat and urine on her garments.

Julie had more-or-less demanded the android be given a new wardrobe too.

'_Part of treating her __**not**__ like a murderer.'_

His lips fully curled back into a sneer at the smell and he lifted a hand up to his nose.

But instead of outrage on the android's face, a smirk appeared there. She knew what she was doing, after all. It was a purposeful attempt to get new clothes by making other people uncomfortable.

'_Bitch.'_

"Every time I think you've progressed, you slip back into…" he struggled for words briefly before gesturing with a hand to her entire body. "_This._"

She shrugged. "I won't kill them if you don't let me, Saint Saiyan. You're stronger than me and-"

"And the weak are there to please the strong, _I know_." His hand shifted from his nose to rub at his eyes. "Were it not for me you'd kill everyone in this-"

"_No_," she said, nearly yelled, adamantly. "I'd only kill them if they got in my way." She shrugged. "They might want to give me gifts. They can't do that if they're dead."

Trunks was… unsure if that attitude was an improvement over her old one. She still disregarded humanity and their lives without a single care but… at least now she realized they were worth… something?

To her, of course.

And that was the rub. She still only cared for herself. She cared nothing for the lives she took or the bonds they shared with one another.

He sighed, definitely a _slight _improvement, but this machine in front of him was just as much a sociopath as the one he captured nearly half a year ago.

That thought brought him up short. It had been nearly half a year since he took the android captive. In the time since then, there had been no sign of her brother – _'Does she even care about him, I wonder?' _– or Cell. His hair had grown longer, too, nearly down to his shoulders now.

It was also… bluer. Like it was turning, slowly, into his mother's hair color.

He grunted and shook his head, withdrawing from his thoughts. "Whatever, machine."

She scowled.

"Let's just go. No murdering. No stealing. No-"

"It's _taking_. Not stealing. If they're strong enough-"

"No _stealing_. No running off. Let's go," he finished, ignoring her growl. Instead, he lifted himself up in the air fully and took off toward a clothing store he'd scouted out yesterday.

One that would actually serve the android, provided he was there to control her.

'_Small wonder, that. Somedays I wonder if she deserves a second chance.'_

* * *

_Thirty minutes later – Android 18_

"A-And this one comes from over-"

"That's _not _what I asked for."

"A-Ah!" The attendant on the left, yelped. A girl with bright orange hair. "R-Right, sorry miss! I'll go and fetch-"

"Now! Chinese dress, lavender flowers, cream background, black lining and the-" She narrowed her eyes, rounding on the other attendant, a boy with short, brown hair. "What were the buttons called, kid?"

His eyes widened. "Oh. The, uh, the wooden pin-"

"With wooden pin buttons!" She finished, rounding back on the girl.

18 could not remember her name and did not care to read her little name tag, so she dubbed her _Weakling One_. The boy was _Weakling Two._

Saint Saiyan sighed, again, from his position on a little bench nearby. He'd been watching her select clothing and order the weaklings about for the better part of thirty minutes now, sighing intermittedly as he did.

He was probably disappointed. Or bored.

Whatever.

She focused back on the clothes in _Weakling Two's _arms, her personal clothing-carrier. He was okay, she supposed. Still weak, but he had a use.

There were dresses of a great many styles and makes, pants and capris and blouses, sweaters and tank-tops. There were little stretchy pants that fit into the palm of her hand and reminded her of the tights she favored, but for the fact that they were made out of a far more comfortable-feeling material. Gloves and socks and underwear – _Weakling Two _blushed when _Weakling One _shoved that into his arms – and hats and even some more stretchy material that Saint Saiyan said helped absorb sweat.

That was his first and last suggestion in finding clothes for her.

It made sense though, all he did was fight. Usually. Except when he was with her, then he talked and generally made a nuisance of himself. But still, any clothing he recommended would probably be nice to fight in.

She had _Weakling One _add that to the pile too.

And now, she was nearly done.

She just needed that stupid girl to get her the _right _Chinese dress and she could begin trying it all on.

A smile started pulling at the corner of her lips. 18 _could not wait _to see Saint Saiyan's face when she told him it was all being tried on. All of it.

_Weakling One _returned then, a bundle of clothing in her arms. Without prompting – she knew the drill, at this point, good girl that she was – she held it up in front of 18 for inspection.

And what she found… she liked. It was more a tunic than it was a dress. It was sleeveless and had two long… _flaps _of cloth that would hang in front and behind her legs. She would have to wear pants under it, lest she run around without anything covering the sides of her legs but that was alright. Maybe those little stretchy pants would work – the girl assured her they were comfortable.

Her smile appeared fully at the corner of her mouth when she saw the buttons – thin, wooden pins – that kept the dress-tunic sealed up. They extended diagonally over where her collarbone would be. That was nice. It even had lavender flowers and a pale, cream color overall. The lining…

The lining was _gold_.

Her eyes narrowed and _Weakling One _swallowed audibly.

But then she shrugged, her smiled returned and she nodded.

Gold was okay. It was not black, but it was okay. It matched the color of the centers of the flowers anyway.

"Good job, Weakling One," she said. "Add it to the pile."

The girl nodded vigorously.

"Saint Saiyan," 18 barked then, rounding on the man.

He stopped being a boy when she saw him shirtless for the first time. Specifically, the way his abdominals traced the outline of his thighs-

She blinked and watched as he did the same. His eyes, unfocused, reoriented on her.

"Done?" He asked.

She nodded and opened her mouth-

But he beat her to the proverbial punch.

"Make sure you pick out swim-wear, too."

Her jaw flapped, useless, for a moment. Then: "Why?"

"Why do you think you need a swimsuit, android?"

She blinked again, her smile turned into a scowl and she crossed her arms over her chest. Weaklings One and Two looked on, silent and jittery.

"Whatever," she scoffed, turning on the humans. They recoiled. She scoffed again. "Get me swimsuits."

And so the process started once over again.

All the while, she wondered where they were going. Somewhere that required a swimsuit…

18 hoped it was a waterpark, without any humans in it. Except Julie, Julie could go.

And Saint Saiyan, of course.

She still wanted to become stronger than him but… now she had other things she wanted to live for as well.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later – Trunks_

"That's good," the android said, shaking Trunks from his daze. "Add it to the pile."

He returned his attention to the scene before him just in time to see the attendant with orange hair – a soft spoken girl named Naomi – give Haku, the male attendant, a swimsuit. It was pale blue colored and looked to be a bikini of some kind. Together with the one the android decided on earlier – a black thing with frills on it – she would have two.

Next to his own plain, dark green trunks, she would probably shine. And love every second of it, no doubt. Narcissism was just one aspect of the machine's sparkling personality. Though it, like most of her other negative traits, had lessened in the time she spent captive.

Hopefully, it would continue to show its ugly head less and less until it reached a tolerable level.

"Alright," the blonde said, clapping her hands and turning towards him. "Now, to try them on."

He scoffed. "Fine, just hurry it up."

Her eyes narrowed and she matched the growing scowl on his face with one of her own. "Every single piece of clothing," she continued slowly. "I wouldn't… I wouldn't want to waste your mother's money, after all."

Trunks only just bit back a laugh, well aware she cared nothing for Mother's money. She thought she could get a rise out of him so easily?

Please.

He was not a boy any longer, unable to fight. He had been through death – hell, he'd _died _himself – and suffering the likes of which the android-

Well, the android probably _did _know what that was like. At least in part. The conditions of her prison were… harsh.

He scowled, displeased with the idea that he and the machine knew similar amounts of suffering. She killed countless innocents, Gohan included.

And he took away all of her freedoms and choices for it.

Trunks did not know which was worse, were he completely honest with himself.

"Get on with it," he said, half to make the android start moving again and half to distract himself from his thoughts.

He was _better _than her. And he did not like how arrogant that made him sound. Too much like the android.

Said android huffed and turned on her heel to enter one of the many dressing rooms that lined the far wall. After opening the stall door and all but demanding Haku place her clothing on the bench, she closed the door and went about changing.

Trunks' shoulders immediately relaxed, tension he did not know was there until just now escaping him.

"Thank you for your patience," he said quietly to Naomi and Haku. "I know this can't be easy for you."

The girl offered him a hesitant smile. "As long as you're here, Mr. Trunks."

"Is she really…" Haku started, trailing off and glancing toward the changing stall, as if expecting the android to burst from it in a murderous rage at any moment.

'_Without me here, she just might.'_

"She is," Trunks answered. Then, he raised his voice. "And she's vain enough to not attack you half dressed, either."

He heard a scoff carry over from behind the dressing room door and watched, pleased, as the android's feet faced his direction for a brief moment.

"M-Mr. Trunks," the male attendant said quickly whilst Naomi clapped her hands over her mouth. "Please don't make her angry!"

"Listen to the weaklings, Saint Saiyan!"

He hummed, annoyed with the android, as the kids around him broke down into more nervous tittering.

'_Kids,'_ he realized. _'They couldn't be more than fourteen, fifteen max. That was… That was four years ago. Before Gohan died. Before I became a Super Saiyan. Before the time machine and saving Goku and beating Cell and… and dying.'_

He was nineteen, now.

And he had a responsibility to make sure these kids were at ease.

Purpose flooded his mind and he lifted himself off the bench and to his feet. Power hummed and focused itself, honing its killing edge until it was a lethal presence building up at the back of his mind. Intent, the entity that honed his power, grew crystal clear within his thoughts.

A purpose to ascend.

A reason to awaken the Super Saiyan within.

'_Protect the kids from the android. Set them at ease.'_

His purpose known, his power honed, his intent strong, he _reached_.

The transition was instant and so smooth that it took the kids a moment to realize he was different. Bright yellow hair, tense muscles straining against the material of his shirt. Sword over his shoulder.

'_It's been too long. Nearly a month, now,' _he wondered, a smirk growing on his face. He heard the android pause behind the changing room screen and Haku and Naomi both began to stare at him, wide eyed.

He exhaled.

His power hummed, content.

"Neither of you need to worry," he said.

And that was that.

Naomi blinked rapidly and Haku swallowed heavily.

"Is… Is that…?" The orange haired girl muttered.

"The Super Saiyan," he said. "My power. My ability to protect you. Rest assured, it vastly outclasses the android's strength."

He heard a scoff behind the changing screen and the door was suddenly thrown open. The machine – _'Potential target. Her choice. Her move.' _– emerged, clad in a pair of black leggings and a loose, flowy blue tank top.

Before, the revealing sight of her breasts and the straps of her bra might've distracted him. But that was done away by his resolve. The intent of a Super Saiyan was not so easily broken down, such was the effort it took to reach the legendary state.

She stopped in front of him and her eyes took him in, slowly. He waited, quiet.

"Surreal," she muttered, almost as though she did not realize she was speaking.

Then, she stepped forward, barefoot, until she was just in front of him. Her hand came up to his face-

His own was there in an instant, intercepting the blow before it-

Caressed his jaw?

His eyes widened, his power fluctuated.

"Such a hard ass in this form," the android muttered, her palm resting on his cheek. "But you do wear it well…"

Then, she pulled away from him, stepping back toward the changing room. "You're the first one 17 hasn't killed before I could get close," she said, eyes not once leaving his face. "I _like _it."

He swallowed, and she stepped fully behind the changing room door, snapping it shut again with a _click_.

And he realized he had forgotten to breathe until then.

As he sucked in air, his power settled. His resolve to… to protect? To save the kids? No, rather, it was to set them at ease!

His purpose returned to him and he swallowed again.

'_So much for my unshakeable control,' _he thought idly, his face still warm where the android had touched it.

He was conflicted, again. He felt like he was _always _conflicted when it came to the android-18-machine-whatever. She was a murderous sociopath only concerned for herself – _'And Julie,' _his mind nagged – but he was giving her a second chance. He could not hold her past against her and truly believe she deserved that chance.

And she _was _attractive. Incredibly so. The peak of human beauty, even.

He swallowed again, frustrated. Had his intent not been so focused on setting the kids at ease, he would've been a wreck.

"Uhm, Mr. Trunks?"

He turned toward Haku, his posture kept tense and rigid by purpose.

The boy blinked and stammered and babbled-

His eye twitched.

Unbidden, he thought of the android. She never stuttered around him, no matter his strength.

"M-My brother, he was there in North City when, uh, when _she_-" the boy said, pointing toward the door. "And her brother came through. Uhm, you and Mr. Gohan saved him. So… So thank you! Truly, thank you, Mr. Trunks! You mean- You mean everything to him! And me!"

The boy was bowing at the waist in front of him. His eyes, wet with tears, were lowered toward the ground.

And his intent faltered. A smile came to his lips and his power receded, not enough to undo the transformation, but enough that he was not singularly focused any more. That was a skill he only learned recently – mastery of the form of a Super Saiyan to the point where he could focus on things other than his resolve, his purpose to ascend.

"Haku, right?" He asked as the boy straightened. Upon receiving a nod, he continued: "I'm glad I was able to save your brother. Stories like that…" He swallowed. Thunder flashed through his mind. A one-armed body lying in the rain. Horrid memories. "Stories like that make it- all the sacrifices and all the lives lost… worth it."

He grinned. "So thank _you, _Haku."

The boy offered him a watery smile. "If it's not too much or… uhm, pushy, can you sign something for him?"

Trunks' eyes widened.

"Ah! If it's too much trouble then don't worry-"

"No, no, it's fine, it's alright! I was just surprised… no one has ever asked for my autograph before."

"Really?" The boy asked, his eyes widened. "But, how? Why?"

"Yeah," Naomi agreed, not quite meeting his eyes. "You're, like… legendary. We all know what you did and a lot of us saw… things."

He smiled and accepted a piece of paper and a pen from Haku. "Maybe I'm too much of a home-body? I never seem to get out, these days."

Trunks laughed.

But the kids were looking past him, at the doors to the changing room.

He turned around-

The android was there, clad in the baby blue bikini, one hand on her hip. The sight of her did things to his self-control that caused his power to fluctuate again. The toned stomach. The feminine curves. The subtle musculature about her body. The elegant structure of her face.

He swallowed heavily and worked his eyes up to her own, realizing he was staring. But when they reached her features, he found she was not smirking at him or looking down her nose at him at all, as he expected.

Instead, she was staring at the paper in his hands. Her eyes were… unfocused. None of the usual intent was there, because whether the android was angry or happy or sad or embarrassed, there was always a purpose to her actions. Like she knew exactly what she wanted and always went after it, relentless.

It was, honestly, one of the few things he admired about her.

This woman looked nothing like the android he knew, though. The hand that was not on her hip was at her side, fingers clenching and unclenching. A few stands of hair had fallen over her eyes – something he knew she loathed – yet she had not moved them behind her ear.

She looked… confused. Lost.

The sight shocked him enough to dispel his transformation. The power of the Super Saiyan left him, silent and unbidden, because the intent in his mind could not see this machine in front of him as the threat from which he wanted to protect the kids.

"18?" He asked, lowly.

Her eyes snapped up to his, blinking rapidly. She glanced over his shoulder, at the kids, then back at him. Then, her demeanor shifted. The fingers stopped fidgeting, a smirk came to her lips and her eyes focused once more.

_This _was the android he knew. The murderer. The sociopath.

The android he saw just a moment ago… Trunks did not know who or what that was.

"Well?" The blonde asked, returning his attentions to her. She placed an arm on the doorframe of the changing room, leaned against it and placed the other arm on her opposite hip. "How do I look?"

He swallowed, at ease with the android's attitude once more but still completely flustered by… by _her_.

"Ah," he said, though it came out more as a gasp. His eyes, unbidden though he did nothing to stop them, trailed up her legs, over her stomach, to her breasts, above her shoulders and-

And met the android's own eyes, set right above that damn half smile.

"G-God- I mean good. You look, you look good," he said, suddenly unable to look at the blonde. One of his arms came up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Hmph," she grunted, then went silent.

He forced himself to look back.

The android was staring at his side, specifically where his shirt had ridden up over his waist.

'_Well,' _he thought, relieved and frustrated in equal parts. _'At least I'm not the only one.'_

The android met his eyes then, grinned at him like some sort of predator, and sashayed back into the changing room.

Trunks, again, realized he forgot to breathe when the door shut behind her.

* * *

_Three hours later – Trunks_

The android – true to her promise - tried on every single article of clothing she wanted to buy. She then refused at least half of them, picked out more and tried them on too. Some of those did not work either, so she picked out more and repeated the process.

Four more times.

And, of course, by _picked out more_ he meant she ordered Naomi around the shop until the girl brought her something that satisfied her.

Trunks sighed.

At least she was clothed, now. Fully clothed. Or… whatever. She was in that Chinese dress she huffed and puffed so much over, alongside a pair of the black leggings – for she demanded at least four more when she tried on the first – and a simple pair of blue sneakers.

Because, of course, they needed to get her shoes after she had her clothes, too.

Now, Trunks walked alongside her in silence. In his hands were bags. Lots of bags with lots of clothes. And shoes. And whatever else she bought. Probably more stuff than he had ever owned throughout his entire life.

Mother, before they left that morning, told him that she would make dinner for them when they got back.

At the time, he thought she meant to say _lunch_.

His stomach growled ferociously.

How stupid he had been.

"Why did you write your name on that paper?" The android said abruptly, inadvertently – or, more likely, purposefully – startling a middle-aged man walking passed them on the sidewalk.

"Because Haku wanted my autograph," he said.

"The weakling?"

"The- Yes, android, the _human boy _who just helped you for-"

"Why did he want you to sign your name on that paper?"

Trunks' mouth moved silently for a moment, frustrated with the blonde already. But Julie's words rang in his mind and, so, he calmed himself. Then: "Because that's something people do when they meet someone they admire. They ask for their autograph."

"Because you protected his brother?"

'_Maybe she does listen after all?'_

"Yes, from you and 17."

The blonde grunted and fell silent at that, narrowing her eyes and staring off into the distance. Her fingers, he noted, were idly toying with the wooden pins keeping her dress together. She'd even found a wooden-looking hairclip… thing, to keep her hair out of her eyes. It really drew attention to her eyes, actually, which made her look-

He forced himself to look away, conflicted and frustrated with himself, this time.

"I want to sign autographs too," the android decided, nodding. "The weak ask the strong for them."

"That's… not necessarily true. People can ask movie stars – actors and actresses – for them too. Or singers."

"Or strong people," the blonde needled, turning her head toward him even as a younger couple walking toward them suddenly realized who they were walking towards and made to cross the street. "That's why the weakling asked you for yours'."

"No," he said, scowling. "He asked me for mine because I protected his brother."

"Which you could do because you were strong. Are strong."

He blinked several times in rapid succession and desperately wished one of his hands was free so he could rub at his eyes. The android's logic – while technically correct – was frustratingly biased and… and pretty much exactly how she thought.

"Strength alone isn't enough," he argued, relieved as he found an angle he could argue that fit _within _her narrow perception of admiration. "You have to use that strength to protect people, to earn their gratitude. Just being strong by itself only matters if you do something _for _people, then they'll give you their admiration."

"Give," 18 murmured, narrowing her eyes and looking down at the sidewalk in front of them as they walked. "I give them my strength so they give me their gratitude?"

"Yeah."

Why was he so overwhelmingly proud of her right now?

Better still, why could he not help the smile that overtook him.

"Yeah… that's it, 18."

She nodded and, abruptly, began taking bags from him. No warning, no offer, just… forcibly taking the things out of his hands.

He shook his head, the smile on his face turning into something like a grin.

"What are you doing?

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, the resolute line of her lips transformed into a scowl. Her eyebrows arched. "Using my strength to help people."

"Are you trying to get _my _gratitude?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth worked, soundless, for several seconds.

Trunks grinned, widely, and noted with no small amount of amusement that it drew her eyes to his lips. He waited for her to pull her gaze back up to his eyes, then:

"Thank you for helping me, 18."

A blush hit her cheeks, hard.

"Shut up, Saint. Just… Shut up."

* * *

**A/N: **Dawwww, unfeeling murderous androids have feelings too! She can even care for people, if those people can do something for her, anyway…

One step at a time.

So this chapter is early but I also didn't expect you guys leave me so many reviews in the space of 5 days, in the middle of the week, no less. Dragon Ball Z is a pretty slow fandom on here and I couldn't just let that go unnoticed.

So thank you for your words, your thoughts and your encouragement! This chapter's early release is all for you lot! The next one will drop next Friday, on **04/19/2019**.

Now then, let's talk **power levels** for a moment. I like the idea of modeling a fighter's strength with a number, difficult though it is to account for everything. Goku's Spirit Bomb, for example, elevates his strength to levels that are far beyond his maximum. In the general sense, though, the numbers work and it gives us an easy way to grasp the general strength of a character and how they measure up to other ones in the Dragon Ball universe.

Plus, it's just really fun to do!

All that said, I think the numbers have gotten inflated recently. Waaaaaay inflated. Like, into the billions inflated.

So… here's my attempt to reign them back in.

Everyone starts with a base power level of 1. From Goku to Vegeta to Kid Trunks to Tien and Yamcha. Attaining a new form, like Super Saiyan, _generally _ups the base power level by one. Training for great lengths of time, like the Z-Fighters did in the Cell Saga can similarly raise that base power. Likewise, special training similar to what Old Kai put Gohan through or events like Piccolo fusing with Kami also ups the base number.

Since all the numbers are being compressed down, characters that vary wildly in strength will end up having the same number, too. Yamcha is represented as a 1, but in reality, that 1 is more like a .5. Conversely, Piccolo may be represented as a 1 (before he fused with Kami and trained his brains out) but in reality that 1 would be closer to a 1.5.

You follow? The takeaway is that just because two characters are represented by the same number does not mean their strength is necessarily equal… just close enough that the number works for both of them.

The modifiers for each Super Saiyan form will differ slightly as well. I want to scale them down, such that Super Saiyan is x2 base power and Super Saiyan 2 is x4 base power, instead of getting into the x10 range that early. That can come later, for more powerful forms!

So, using all that gobble-dee-gook, we come up with these numbers:

**Pre-Time Travel F!Trunks**

Base Power: 2

Super Saiyan: 4

**Post-Time Travel F!Trunks**

Base Power: 3

Super Saiyan: 6

Super Saiyan 2nd Grade: 8

Super Saiyan 3rd Grade: 10

**Android 17**

Base Power: 5

**Android 18**

Base Power: 4

Pretty cool, huh? I put the 2nd and 3rd grades of Super Saiyan between its power level and that of Super Saiyan 2 (Which could be 12, with a base power of 3), since each of those grades sort of model progression to ascending beyond the original form.

**Update 02/02/2020: **General spell checking/editing.

Now then, last but not least, to the review responses!

**Frozenseed: **I'm glad you like the nickname and rest assured, I like it too much to get rid of it. Saint Saiyan will stick around for many, many, many chapters to come! Thanks for your review!

**Benjutsu: **I tried to make the relationship between Trunks and 18 as realistic as possible while staying true to what I feel they are like as characters. That's a hard thing to balance… especially so given how complicated their situation is. I'm glad you liked it! And I hope the character development in this chapter was just as interesting. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!

To my remaining reviewers, thank you for taking the time to put the proverbial pen to paper. Of all the spam fanfiction sends my way, review emails are ones I will never, ever get tired of receiving, the good and the bad. I like reading your thoughts, I like hearing about your reactions, all of it. So thank you!

Till next time,

-Phailen

(P.S. I don't know why the site keeps taking down the picture I have selected for the thumbnail on the story… I'll keep trying to update it and hope it sticks, eventually.)


	3. Chapter 3

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

_Three days later – Android 18_

She stepped onto the main floor of the house with a spring to her step, blonde hair – trimmed, cut and layered – bobbing as she all but skipped toward the kitchen. On her back, she carried a small backpack colored bright blue that contained her towel, a good book, her swimsuit, some sun screen – which was apparently necessary when one wore said swimsuit – and a crossword.

18 liked crosswords, having been hooked on them when the blue-haired weakling left behind her 'morning paper'. They challenged her vocabulary with words that, before she became Saint Saiyan's captive, were only worth describing as either 'destroyed' or 'wrecked'.

The news played in the background as she entered the kitchen proper, relieved to see no sight of the weakling. Immediately, she walked toward the refrigerator – it kept things, like drinks, cold - and went about finding her water bottle once she opened the door.

It sat on one of the shelves, next to all the odd bottles and containers that the humans favored like milk and orange juice and lemonade. Next to it was Trunks' bottle. Saint Saiyan's… whatever.

She grabbed both and bumped the door shut with her hip, returning to the-

"-Android 17."

Her eyes widened and she froze, the entirety of her attention directed to listening intently to the weakling casting the news.

"The latest witness reports place him fleeing the city, toward the east. All residents are warned to be on the lookout and proceed with extreme caution. Do not attempt to stop him. If you see him, flee."

18 swallowed and returned – at a much more sedate pace – to the living room. Sure enough, her brother's visage stared back at her on the television screen. Accompanying the… glass-shot? Cupshot?

Mugshot!

Accompanying the mugshot was a still-frame image of 17 flying through the air, his colorless ki visible.

She blinked. His black shirt was gone and half of the white, long-sleeved undershirt he favored was shredded. From the distance the still was taken, it was hard to get a grasp on how rough he looked beyond that but even his shirt being in tatters was alarming. Saint Saiyan was the only one stronger than she and her brother and he was always around her, in case she tried to attack someone.

'_Who did that then?'_

"Android 17 executed a reign of terror across the region with the help of his sister," the newscaster continued as she placed the water bottles down onto a table. Her own mugshot appeared next to 17's. "But Mr. Briefs managed to capture her several months ago. Since then, 17 has been on the run and maintained a low profile to evade notice. This change in behavior is alarming and doubtlessly means nothing good for the people living in the area. If you see Android 17, please alert-"

18 shut the television off with the remote, then tossed the object onto a nearby couch. That done, she glanced at the stairs leading to the upper floor of the house.

No sight of Saint Saiyan. The blue-haired weakling was similarly absent.

She hummed under her breath, conflicted. On the one hand, she could keep this from Trunks and get to go to the waterpark with him. She was very much looking forward to spending a day with the saiyan, just having fun, despite the presence of all the weaklings he told her would be there. She could stand ignoring them so long as they did not get in her way or speak to her or gawk at her. She even fanaticized about saving one or two from drowning and giving them autographs afterward.

No, the humans could be overlooked in favor of paying attention to the saiyan.

'_And his body.'_

That was still a new experience for her, to be around an attractive man for so long. 17 always-

'_17, right_,' she sighed, cursing her idiot brother for showing his face _today _of all days. Why couldn't he have waited until tomorrow?

After she went to the waterpark.

'_Somebody will tell Saint Saiyan there,' _she realized. There were too many weaklings for it to not happen. One of them would alert him about her brother's whereabouts and then her day would be ruined.

Ugh.

18 stomped up the stairs perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving the water bottles where they sat on an end table. Her mind stewed over what would surely be a lost opportunity to have fun in favor of tracking down her idiot brother. On any other day she wouldn't have minded, he was bound to be captured by Saint Saiyan eventually and then _he _would get a chance to see what that damn gravity chamber was like.

Maybe _she _could go down there and train while he was on the floor, this time. Surely her strength eclipsed his, now, given his time spent on the run and her time spent… well, helping Julie? Shopping? Being a captive?

Her shoulders slackened.

Maybe he was still stronger than her, after all.

She put her bottom lip between her teeth.

She could ask Trunks to help her train. He would probably agree, given his insistence that she be given a second chance while 17 was still at large. She-

18's eyes widened and she stopped where she was in the upper floor hallway.

She was insurance. Saint Saiyan kept her alive so that 17 would be less likely to harm people – something she knew was pointless. She never told the saiyan that, though, so he let her live thinking that it would control her brother. In reality, the only thing keeping her brother controlled was the fact that doing anything but lying low would bring Saint Saiyan's wrath down upon his head.

But now that he'd been found, if Trunks managed to bring him back or-

Or _kill _him.

Then she would be next.

"18?" Trunks' voice said, in front of her.

She jumped, violently, and nearly fell back onto the floor.

The saiyan's lips quirked up into something resembling a smirk. "Jumpy today, huh? Don't worry, I'll keep all the big, bad humans away from you."

Her lips moved and she started forming the words to tell him about her brother, but she second guessed herself. She stopped short of speaking.

Because this was her _life _she was gambling with here.

"Are you alright?" He said, his smirk vanishing. "If you really feel uncomfortable with the people there, we can go on a less busy day, or later in the day… or something." He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck.

He was showing her compassion, she realized. That was something she only ever experienced with Julie until just recently, when Saint Saiyan began doing it too. Not all the time, not very well, but what intent she was able to read from him all suggested he actually cared for her.

Or at least, for what she could be.

He made it very clear that he did not approve of what she was before her captivity began. He outright _hated _what she was.

But still, it was different now, right? Trunks wouldn't harm her… right?

"18," he said, stepping up closer to her, within arm's reach. "Are you… Are you really freaked out by the people? I, ah, I didn't realize it was so bad. Sorry! I forget sometimes you aren't used to big crowds and that can be… intimidating, for sure…"

He swallowed, his arm falling limp at his side.

18 took a deep breath in.

"Will you say something?" Saint Saiyan said, his eyes glancing about her face. "You look… uncertain. It's okay if we don't-"

"17 was found."

He blinked once, twice, three times before comprehension spread across his features and his eyes widened.

"What?!" He spat, gripping her shoulders with a movement quick enough to make her flinch. "Where?! When?! Did he kill anyone? What was he doing? ...18?! Come on!"

She was rattled, she knew. The move he made for her shoulders brought back memories with it of him doing the same thing, but with brittle yellow hair. Memories of a stormy evening. Memories of being brought low.

_That _time, his grasp on her shoulders ended with a knee rising up at her nose and…

And _pain_.

"18!" He yelled, a mere breath away from her face. "Are you- Is this- Are you hiding him from me?!"

"N-No!" She returned, loathing the shakiness in her voice. It was all there. The yelling. The screaming. The grip, ironclad and unbreakable on her shoulders. Soon, the hand would shift to her neck and then air would become a luxury.

"Then where is he?! 18, _please_, I need to know before he gets away again!"

"Just-" She swallowed, gasping. "Just- Just stop! Stop for-"

Another gasp was ripped from her lips unbidden and the hands left her shoulders at that very same moment. Freed, she backpedaled until she hid something solid, then slid down it to rest on the floor, her knees drawn up-

_-knee heading toward her face. She desperately threw her hands up but she was too late and the very next thing she knew was pain accompanied by a flash of white spreading across her vision. Her mind raged and she __**knew **__she was stronger than this weakling but the blows kept coming-_

She shoved her legs down and away from her face, toward the floor of the hallway. Shaking her head, 18 dispelled the memories of that day as best she could, but they were persistent, clinging to the edges of her mind.

The screaming.

The thunder and the rain.

The agony unlike anything she-

A presence appeared on the edge of her awareness, next to her, on the floor. She stilled, caught between her memories and the outside world.

"Hey."

The voice of a killer. Of her better. Of the man who kept her captive and took away everything from her and beat her to within-

"18. I… I'm sorry."

-who would kill her when he found her brother because her life meant nothing to him and he told her that time and time and time and time again-

"I don't know what's going through your head but… if you want to talk…"

-taunted her every chance he got and made her drink her own urine. No baths. No clothes. No anything but the endless existence of lying under gravity that sucked the air from her lungs and made it impossible to breathe. Move. Think. See-

A hand appeared at the edges of her vision and she froze, completely and utterly. She knew, instinctively, to whom that hand belonged – _murderer, captor, killer _– but her body did not move when she willed it. It stayed immobile even as that hand drifted down to her shoulder and only then, _only then _did it shy away from the limb.

But he persisted.

His hand hit her shoulder-

-_bones shattered and she realized she could no longer feel her fingers. Did she have them? Did he take them? She was losing her sight too. She was… losing? She was losing! Losinglosinglosinglosinglosing_-

And the fingers curled around her skin-

-_squeezing tight! So tight! No breath- no air! She couldn't breathe! Even a gasp… even a gasp… no… no air. None… nothing. Nothing… nothing…nothingnothingnothingnothing_-

And stayed there.

Her breathing, shallow and quick, was beginning to make the edges of her vision whiten and she knew she needed to get ahold of herself but she couldn't! She couldn't! She-

The hand on her shoulder shifted and went behind her and she stilled again. A cold feeling followed it as it drifted across her back, over her shoulder blades and to her other side.

Where it pulled at her-

-_hands gripped her ankles and she felt her joints pop and her bones crack but she did not cry out. She would not give him the satisfaction. She hated him. Loathed him. Reviled- But then he pulled. He pulled her away from the control console and undid the progress she made over three days without water or sleep or outside or gravitysoheavy and she __**screamed**_-

"18," his voice said, more urgent, near her ear.

Someone was screaming. Someone was yelling. The hallway was filled with shrieking.

"18," he said again as her back hit something solid. A limb – _his _probably – snaked its way across her shoulders and his hand held one of hers and _why?!_ Why!?

"Why what?" He said loudly because someone was still screaming and-

"I'm sorry, 18! I'm sorry! I don't know- Is this-" He stopped talking.

Then the pressure increased on her back-

-_no breath. No breath. No sun. No light. Only rain and… lightning. And no breath. No_-

Her face was pressed into warm skin and it was wet. Or was it _her _skin that was wet? She did not know. She did not know but she knew she liked it. The warmth. The smell, a hint of metal accompanied by a strong smell of wood and trees and outdoors and-

'_Trunks,'_ her mind realized.

The screaming stopped.

_Her _screaming stopped.

And she swallowed, drawing in a shaky breath that burned her raw throat.

Trunks was holding her. It was his shoulder her face was against. His arm around her back. His hand holding hers.

He was warm.

Her eyelids drooped low, exhaustion seizing her.

Her mind, foggy and slow and clouded, managed only a single thought.

She liked warm.

* * *

_Trunks_

18 was quiet now.

He still had no idea what set her off – memories of her brother, maybe? His reappearance in the public eye might've awakened some bad memories of her times adventuring…

Who was he kidding? They had no bad times before he… Before he showed up and took 18 captive.

Guilt gnawed at the edge of his thoughts, forced back only by a sense of rightness. He _knew _he was right to stop 18 when he did. He _knew _he was right for keeping them from ending any more lives. He _knew _he was right for keeping her captive.

But he knew he was wrong for being as cruel as he was. As vicious, as merciless as he was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, drawing her fully onto his lap. Her body fit against his so well, so easily.

It was remarkable.

He shut his eyes – wet with tears, for never in his life had he seen such naked fear before, and certainly never on 18's face – and pressed his forehead down onto the top of her skull, against her hair. It smelled of watermelons, the scent she all but demanded her shampoo have after smelling it on Julie's hair.

A smile touched his lips.

Then, footsteps _thudded_ up the stairs at the end of the darkened hall and mother's head appeared above the precipice.

"Trunks," she said, quietly. Her eyes were locked on 18's unmoving form in his arms. Likely focused on her face, where he knew tears or tear tracks lay. "What happened? I heard screaming all the way down in the lab and-"

"Tea, mother."

She blinked and her eyebrows arched. "Tea? Now?"

"She likes tea," he said, his eyes darting down to the blonde head beneath his chin.

"What happened?" Mother insisted, glancing down at the android again. "Is it the control chip? Did it malfunction? Is she dangerous?"

"Mother, _please_, make her tea."

She looked back at his face, opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her eyes drifted down to 18 and a bitter sort of smile settled on her face.

Then, she turned on her heel and retreated downstairs.

Trunks watched her go until he could see the back of her head no longer, until her footsteps faded entirely and he faintly heard water being poured into the kettle downstairs.

"Trunks?"

18's voice was so quiet, so muffled against his shoulder that he nearly missed it.

He swallowed. "Yeah, 18?"

"Am I going to die?"

He heard the words and his mind returned to the day he let her out of the gravity chamber. She'd posed him the same question that day and he'd said the answer to that question depended upon her answer to _his _question.

'_17 was found,' _his mind reminded him, then, when he searched for a reason why she would ask that.

And then, all the pieces fell into place. When 17 was found, Trunks planned on capturing him and giving him the same chance he gave 18 – the blonde android did not know that, though. She must think he still planned on killing them both.

And he hadn't given her any reason to think otherwise.

But the idea of taking her life was abhorrent to him, now. She was… She was important to him, sarcastic jabs, homicidal urges and arrogant self-centeredness be damned. She had wormed her way into his heart while he watched her experience a world that did not immediately run in fear of her. She had endeared herself to him when she made friends with Julie and learned the value of being rewarded for hard work.

She had so much living to catch up on…

"You aren't going to die, 18," he said, finally, when he felt her tense in his arms.

'_Probably worried you'd crush her here and now, idiot.'_

"If anybody wants to get to you," he continued, as the tension fled her muscles entirely and quickly – it left her boneless and limp in his arms. He supported her.

"If anybody wants to get to you, they go through _me _first. The strong protect, you know?"

He felt her smile against his shoulder.

* * *

_The next day – Trunks_

"Are you sure you're up for this?" He asked 18, again, as they stood on the front lawn of his childhood home. Mother was behind them, on the porch, watching and fidgeting with her hands, wide-eyed with her lips pressed into a firm line.

"I told you," the android said. "If anyone gets to knock my brother around for ruining _my _waterpark day, it's me, Saint Saiyan."

He laughed and shrugged. "Alright, then. Mom, we're off! Don't wait up!"

"Don't _make_ me wait up, Trunks," she riposted immediately, finally settling on crossing her arms over her chest. Her fidgeting fingers stopped.

He nodded as he rose into the air, 18 floating up with him. He waved down at the blue haired woman and then, he blasted off toward the coast.

Android 17 was spotted again, twice in just so many days, this time off the coast. The fishing vessel that saw him reported him traveling away from the mainland and visibly bloodied. He appeared to be heading toward a chain of several smaller islands, remote and abandoned.

The news chilled his blood. First, because those islands were the same ones that he faced Cell near in the past. Second, because that green monster was the only being he could think of that could beat Android 17 in a fight.

Cell's first form was more than enough to overpower Android 17, and if he managed to do that then he would transform into his semi-perfect form. Trunks was confident he and 18 would be able to deal with that form, but if Cell managed to get the blonde android alone and absorb _her _too…

Maybe bringing her along was a bad idea.

The sight of blue on the horizon interrupted his thoughts and, as the ocean approached, he slowed to a stop above the coastline.

A glance around his person was all it took to spot those islands, only a few minutes away by air.

"Are those the islands?" 18 asked as she came to a stop next to him, floating at eye-level. She wore the short-sleeved compression shirt, dark blue in color, which he suggested she buy. Over it, she had on a white, flowy shirt. Jeans covered her legs and sneakers, her feet.

"Yeah," he said, nodding as he adjusted his own compression top underneath his Capsule Corps jacket. Navy blue pants and a pair of grey-green boots completed his outfit. On his back, his sword sat in its scabbard. "That's where he was before, in the past."

18 hummed but did not challenge him as she had before, doubtful of his adventures in the past.

He thought she was only bitter that her past self ended up friends with the Z-Fighters there without so much as a single beat down. Although the whole 'absorbed by Cell' part clearly put her off.

Speaking of…

"Are you sure you want to come? Cell can-"

"You told me," she said, turning fully to him. "I want to kick his ass, make sure he can't do that to me. Ever. That's _disgusting_."

He swallowed, realizing how surreal it was, preparing to battle _with _18, rather than against her.

"Alright… We can, uh… talk about-"

"There's nothing to talk about," she said, now looking toward the islands. "My mind got away from me. I jumped to conclusions I shouldn't've, got scared and panicked. It won't happen again."

He frowned, reaching out to grab her shoulder.

She let him, surprisingly enough.

"You should go into battle with a clear conscience."

18's hand detached his from her shoulder, then she smiled back at him. "I'm not a kid, Trunks. I cried. I had a breakdown. It's embarrassing but… if it _had _to happen then I'm glad it was you it happened with."

Then, without another word, she turned and shot off toward the islands.

Stunned and, despite the battle on the horizon, giddy, Trunks could not help the smile that came to his face.

God, he was a sap.

The stupid, dopey smile would not leave him.

* * *

_Android 18_

Her brother's energy was just as undetectable to her as it was to Trunks, unfortunately. That meant she was left manually searching the islands while Saint Saiyan lollygagged behind.

A silver lining very quickly made itself known in the form of a trail of blood, however, so she descended without any hesitation and landed next to the crimson liquid. It stained the grass and the dirt of a little island in an uneven trail, as if the one bleeding had been walking unsteadily. One side of the trail led directly to a small cliff that over looked the ocean whilst the other snaked its way through the foliage to end…

She lifted herself off the ground, hovering just high enough to get a better vantage point.

And she smiled.

For the other end of the blood trail led straight to a decent sized cave.

She pushed herself through the air with a burst of colorless power and landed heavily at the entrance to the rocky hideout moments later.

It was dark inside the cave, for the sunlight only illuminated the immediate area around her. She could see rough, rocky walls and an uneven, natural floor. The blood trail continued on that surface until it trickled off, deeper into the cave and out of view.

She took a step into the cave. Then another. And a third.

"18," said a voice she recognized, raspy and quiet.

Shuffling from deeper in the shadows heralded her brother's approach. Slow steps that sounded like he was stumbling every time he tried to walk.

"18," he said again. "How are you… how are you still alive? And… What are you wearing? Where're your-" A cough. Another. "Your real clothes?"

He was near, she thought, but she-

17 finally reached the sunlight.

And she recoiled.

His black hair was dirty, smudged with mud and unkempt. It fell over his eyes and hid half of his face away from a world; a good thing, because his face was bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen shut entirely. His white shirt was gone entirely, now, leaving him naked from the waist up and his dislocated right shoulder on full display. The forearm of the same limb looked broken. His pants were only one legged now, the other appeared to have been burned off. The shoe on that leg was only just holding together as well.

"It's pretty bad, huh?" He said, hanging his head. A second later, he spat up a glob of mucus and blood.

"17," she said slowly, eyes darting over his injuries. "Who did this?"

He laughed and lifted his head once more – an act that looked like it strained him greatly. "A… A monster. Big and green and orange. Been chasing me for three days, now… I can't get away."

'_Two of his teeth are gone,' _she noted. Amidst all the blood and drool, she thought she spied a split lip as well.

"Green monster," the blonde repeated, no real feeling behind the words. She was too busy focusing on his appearance to pay much mind to the conversation.

'_While I was with Julie and Trunks, he…'_

She felt guilty.

"Yeah," the man grunted, stumbling-

She jumped forward and caught him before he could fall into the side of the cave. Now close to him, she realized he also smelled horrible, like he'd seen too many days of sweating without a shower.

He must've seen her scowl and scrunch her nose, for he said: "Haven't been able to break into any houses for a week. No showers on the run." He shrugged. "More important things to worry about."

She knelt down and settled him against the cave wall, doing enough due diligence to find a spot to rest his head against the wall before returning to her feet.

"It'll be here soon," he muttered, staring listlessly ahead while releasing a shaky breath. "Always follows. Me 'n that guy in the vest. Finds us."

"It's fine, 17," the blonde said, stepping away from the man. "I'll-"

"Well, well, well," a baritone voice behind her mused.

She spun and-

A fist kissed her chin, spinning her back the way she came. The ground rose up to meet her and it was only her instincts and her reflexes that allowed herself to throw out her hands in time. Instead of her face smashing against the unforgiving rock, she instead managed a sloppy roll that put her back on her feet, deeper in the cave.

Her jaw smarted but she'd dealt with worse before.

_Much _worse.

"18," 17 wheezed. "Kill it. I'll run."

"You're good at that, asshole," she muttered, feeling some normalcy return to her despite the monster at the entrance of the cave.

And it was a monster. It had two arms and two legs, a pair of eyes and a mouth where it should but that was where the similarities between her and it ended. Its skin bore black spots on a background of dark green, lighter green on its limbs. Its lower legs and arms were covered in what looked like armor, colored dark blue. It had a large crown-like extension on the top of its head that ended in two towers of the same spotted green. Finally, and most off-putting, it had a long tail with a dangerous looking stinger at the end.

"I see you brought your sister to see me, 17," the monster said, his voice deep and gravely. "How nice of you."

Her brother only scoffed.

"Who are you?" She said. "_What _are you?"

It laughed, stepping forward-

She blasted off the ground with a surge of energy, hurling herself at the monster with an elbow leading the charge. It cleanly impacting the thing's gut, drawing a surprised grunt from the beast, even as she bounced off the ground and threw a knee towards its chin.

But it recovered quickly. It jumped backward and while it did not manage to dodge the blow entirely, it turned her knee impacted its jaw into a glancing blow at best.

She landed on her feet again, just in front of 17.

"18," he whispered behind her, sounding shocked. "How… How did you-"

"Yes, 18," the monster in front of her said. "_How _did you get so… deliciously strong?"

She narrowed her eyes and assumed a fighting stance, for she did not have an answer and would not bother giving it even if she did. The thing was far too creepy to talk to.

"Very well," it said, glancing over its shoulder.

She blasted off the ground again, leading with her elbow once more-

The monster turned back to her, a grin on its twisted face now, and slapped her attack away. She stumbled into the cave wall.

'_Bastard tricked me!'_

Something hit her, _hard_, on her side. The impact tossed her deeper into the cave; she bounced off the ceiling and broke through some stalactites before falling and skidding to a halt on the ground. The blonde got her arms under herself half way through the slide, though, and was on her feet by the time she stopped. Her side ached but that did not stop her from hurling a series of energy blasts at the monster's silhouette near the front of the cave.

Its laugh echoed across the rock walls and it parried each energy blast, slapping all of them aside contemptuously.

But some got by the beast.

They sailed into the open air behind it.

She smirked.

"This one has fight in her!" The green thing said loudly, laughing once more. It turned to regard her brother on the ground. "Too bad you were so weak, 17. I would've enjoyed our chase much more if you were like her!"

Then, its tail extended and the stinger expanded until it looked like a twisted suction cup, easily the size of her body. It lunged at her brother-

'_Oh. Oh, what the __**fuck**__!?'_

17 began screaming and kicking and clawing at the tail currently engulfing his upper half. For all his struggling, he could not free himself.

"Shit," she spat, launching herself forward again. She came in low again, hoping the beast had no way of seeing her in the darkness of the cave.

'_But just in case…'_

Another barrage of energy blasts left her hands as she flew forward. They impacted the area around the beast. The ceiling. The ground. The walls. The cave shook and grumbled and rock dislodged itself all around them. Dust quickly gathered.

It was through that dust 18 flew, a grin on her face.

Having learned from her mistakes, she came in low this time, with a sweeping leg. It connected and the monster yelled something at her when it found itself falling to the ground. But the blonde ignored its jabbering and instead planted her hands on the ground.

She then double-donkey kicked the fuck out of it.

"Fuck off, monster!"

It crumpled around her feet and grunted loudly as it flew from the cave, out into the sunlight. Its tail lost its hold on 17 and deposited him roughly on the grassy plains just outside of the entrance to the hideout.

18 hopped back to her feet and quickly made her way out of the cave as well, only to find the beast regaining its feet.

"Resilient piece of shit," she spat, stalking by a gaping 17.

Then, in a movement so quick it seemed all but instantaneous, Trunks was behind it, obnoxiously yellow hair on full display.

She saw its eyes widen first in surprise when it sensed Saint Saiyan and then widen all over again when it felt the kick land on the side of its head. Something _cracked_ and plenty of things _crumpled_ and the monster was sent hurdling over the side of the cliff, down to the ocean. Trunks promptly followed after it.

18 let him go. If she could beat the green thing back, then he certainly could as well.

"Quick," 17 muttered, climbing laboriously to his feet. His top half was covered in some sort of green muck. "Help me out, 18. Let's make a run for it."

Her lip curled into a sneer when he came closer. "Hold it! These are new clothes. _Don't _touch me with that nasty slime!"

He scoffed and continued approaching, so she hopped away from him.

"Damnit, 18!" The black haired android snapped. "The kid will come for _us _when he's done with that monster! Now's our chance. Let's. Go!"

"Do you even know his name?"

"Thranks! Who cares? Let's go!"

"Tch, you haven't changed a bit," she muttered, lifting herself up to hover just outside of his reach. The island shook and rumbled as Trunks presumably unleashed hell on the green thing.

'_Good. It looks ugly and it wants to absorb me. Two more reasons than I need for it to be dead.'_

"Idiot! Get down here! _Don't _leave me!"

"Like you left me, brother?"

17 grit his teeth and shook his head, holding his dislocated shoulder with his good hand. "The kid's stronger than us, you know that! If I stayed, I would have died!"

"You left me for dead, asshole," she returned. What pity she had for him had easily been done away with by his attitude. Self-serving jerk.

"Wha-"

A _massive _blast of brilliant yellow energy erupted below them, over the side of the cliff, and carried something into the air. Something green that was quickly disintegrating.

A grin touched her lips.

'_Good. Bastard needed-'_

Her thoughts – and 17's shouting, for that matter - were cut off when… _something _landed on the ground between them. It was wriggling and-

"_Ew!_" She… shrieked, shying away from what could only be an _arm _on the ground.

A moving, writhing arm.

17 yelled in alarm and kicked the thing away from him, toward _her_.

"You asshole!" She spat, swatting the thing away from her, back toward the ground. "Don't kick that at _me_!"

The black haired android only scoffed from his position on the ground, looking rather sullen.

Idly, she noted Trunks' energy approaching their positon. She had grown used to it, very used to it, in her time spent with him. It only really occurred to her now that she was out of the city – her death chip having been deactivated for the day – and _not _in close proximity to him how well she could search out Saint Saiyan's ki with her senses.

"Be on your best behavior," she sang as she landed in front of 17 with a smirk pulling at her lips. "Trunks is almost here."

"Tr- What?! You mean the kid!?"

"Who else is named Trunks?"

"I don't know his_ name_," 17 said. "He is- _was _weak. Weaklings' names don't matter! Duh!"

That… That pulled the grin off her face immediately. Instead, she was left glaring at her brother with a scowl on her lips. That attitude was the same one she took regarding weakl- _human _names and to be even remotely similar to the self-serving jack ass in front of her displeased her greatly.

'_I care about other people.'_

When it suited her, her mind needled. She cared when she stood to gain from it. Be it gratitude or, more recently, autographs.

Her eye twitched. She _could _care about people without expecting anything in return, like Saint Saiyan was always preaching, but didn't _want _to.

'_Yeah. Right…'_

18's shoulders slumped and she released a sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she did so.

Today kind of sucked after all.

A slight buffeting wind reached her then and she looked up to find Trunks landing in front of her. His eyes were locked onto 17 and the black haired android returned the stare as steadily as he could in his state. Her brother was still shaky on his feet.

"18," Trunks said, nodding at her. "That was Cell in his semi-perfect form. I'm told he had a form before that one… I don't know how he transformed."

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. He's gone, so who cares?"

"I care," Saint Saiyan said, his hair still obnoxious and yellow and _bright_. "What if he transformed by absorbing 19 or 16?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Who and who?"

"Androids that Gero made."

A sneer pulled at her lips when her _father's _name was mentioned. Asshole.

"Well, they aren't here. We killed Gero and stomped on his head. He's dead."

"They might be," Trunks argued. "Cell lived, so-"

"Wait a minute! Hold on! What's-" A cough. "What's going on?! What is this?!"

18 turned to regard 17 just as Trunks did.

"What do you want, brother?" She asked, idly watching his wide-eyed, slack-jawed look of shock with a smirk on her face. The idiot was too easy to rile up.

"What do you mean, what do I want? Why are you talking to the kid like that?"

She glanced at Saint Saiyan. He glanced back.

She shrugged. "I guess I can yell at him instead?"

17 thrust his good hand out, finger pointing at her face. "Why aren't you dead?!"

"Because Trunks never killed me."

Her brother growled low in his throat. "Don't mess with me, 18! He's our enemy! He stopped us from making this world our playground!"

"You sound just like him," Trunks said suddenly, staring intently at the android's face. His eyes flickered over the injuries the black haired android sustained before returning to his face. "He talked about a playground too, before he was beaten."

Sneering, 17 turned on the saiyan then. A low growl escaped his throat.

The sight, surprisingly, had 18 raising her hackles. A similar sneer appeared on her face and her fingers curled into fists.

It wasn't until she summoned up some of her ki to form into energy blasts that her brother noticed.

He turned to her, his anger dispelled. Shock replaced it in the form of a pair of widened eyes.

"18? What- How dare you!?"

He took a step toward her and she saw Trunks grow tense in the corner of her eye.

"Try it," she spat, summoning up ki in her other hand too. "You saw me beat the monster. I can kick your ass too."

17's nostrils flared and he glanced between her and Trunks. Eventually, he settled for glaring at Trunks. "I don't know what you did to her, _kid_, but I'm gonna kill you for it. Like that one-armed idiot!"

Far from angry, a smirk appeared on Saint Saiyan's face. "Heard it all before, machine. Your sister has the quicker wit, trust me. And nothing's been done to her… nothing to change her personality, anyway."

'_What a graceful way to avoid mentioning my death chip, Trunks,' _she thought even as a scoff escaped her. The saiyan must've heard it, for her tossed her a sardonic grin over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

'_When did we get so buddy-buddy? After my breakdown? No wonder humans cry all the time, if it does this sort of thing afterward.'_

Idle and sarcastic her thoughts may be, she _did _feel more comfortable with the saiyan now. Like her status with him had been clarified yesterday, like she no longer felt it necessary to watch him so closely. Like it was no longer necessary to fear for her life around him.

'_Trust.'_

The realization brought a smile to her face. So _this _was trust.

This… this was nice. And she had it _with _Saint Saiyan. It wasn't just her. It was felt together. Shared.

She swallowed, her eyes suddenly teary. Quickly, for her brother would never let her live it down if he saw, she wiped away the moisture before it could pool.

18 disliked crying as a general rule. It always happened when she was sad or angry or, as she found when she faced Saint Saiyan so long ago, in pain.

It had never happened before when she was happy.

'_Stupid emotions.'_

It still sucked, crying. But… she didn't mind it as much, now.

But the only one who could see it was Trunks. Or Julie. No one else.

"-not that efficient, _kid_," her brother was saying. He then gestured somewhere out over the grassy field upon which they stood. "You missed an entire arm!"

Trunks' body went rigid in an instant and his power, which she'd felt idling just beneath the surface, erupted in full again. A brilliant golden shroud sudden buffeted both she and her brother with a weighty pressure and strong wind both. The saiyan then blasted off in the direction 17 indicated without another word.

18 watched his progress until he landed some distance away, clearly searching the ground. He hovered and landed in turn, but his eyes remained plastered on the grass.

"What did you say to him?" she said, turning on her brother. He had fallen back on his butt when Trunks launched himself into the air.

The black haired android glanced up at her, scowling. "Just that his stupid energy attack wasn't all that great, since that arm got away clean. Then he freaked out and did… _that_."

She grunted and turned back to watching Saint Saiyan. There was something in his movement that alarmed her, a sense of urgency or… or panic? It was the way he swiveled in the air, searching the ground too quickly to really see anything. In the way he ran across the grass, skidding to a stop every so often and getting on his hands and knees to look for – 18 knew now – the beast's arm that she'd swatted away.

"Why do you think he wants it?" She murmured, taking a step toward the saiyan.

"I don't know," 17 answered her from his spot on the ground. "Probably because the thing can regenerate. But it can't come back from just an arm! That's ridiculous!"

She slapped a hand over her face and began rubbing at her eyes. "Why didn't you say something _before_?!"

"Because it can't regenerate from a _hand_! That's stupid!"

"_It_ is called Cell," Trunks' voice said, suddenly, from behind her.

She jumped and turned to find him landing next to her. His power, still shrouding the area with its potency, was almost… comforting. Familiar. Her back tingled when it came into contact with her clothing, thin as it was.

"And Cell can regenerate from even a single _cell_, lowercase."

"Hmph," she grunted, shaking herself from her inspection of Trunks' power. "Makes sense why that's his name, then."

"Right," the saiyan agreed. "And now, he's regenerating."

"Who cares?" 17 said, still on the ground and still scowling in full. "He'll probably just go after that guy in the vest! He can't get to me now anyway."

'_Such a child. I can't believe I was like that.'_

_Was _like that. She wasn't anymore.

She wasn't.

"Guy in a vest," Trunks parroted, staring intently at the black haired android on the ground. "What guy in a vest? What did he look like?"

"Who ca-"

"I care, machine!" The saiyan roared, flaring his power. "Tell me!"

17 scoffed and – deliberately, she saw - waited one second, two, then three before he started speaking. "Some old guy with a hat and a vest! He was running from that monster too – it just picked me because I was stronger-"

"I don't know that android," Saint Saiyan said, his power receding. He turned to her. "Do you remember anything like that?"

She shrugged. "We killed Gero then left. There was nothing else."

"No fat, pale one with energy absorbers on his hands?"

"Energy absorbers?" She asked.

"He could take ki from other people and use it as his own. He had a weird little hat… I think… this is secondhand information."

"Hmph," 18 grunted as 17 looked on, silent and sullen. "No, nothing like that."

"No 19," Trunks muttered. "Then what about 16? Big guy, orange mohawk."

The blonde laughed. "That sounds dumb. I'd definitely remember someone like that. He wasn't there either."

Saint Saiyan turned away, crossed his arms and glared out at the ocean. "Shit," he muttered. "Shit!"

"I hope he kills you, kid."

She ignored 17, Trunks did too.

"How bad is it going to be?" She asked, stepping up behind him.

"Bad," he said, exhaling heavily through his nose. "Stronger than me, bad."

Her eyes widened. "The green thing can… it can get that strong?"

Trunks turned to her fully. "The way we beat him in the past was to have a Super Saiyan ascend beyond that level, an Ascended Super Saiyan. A Super Saiyan Two. _I _can't do that… We need to go to Gero's lab. Figure out what other androids are out there."

He turned on his heel, approaching 17. 18 paced just behind him.

"But first… we need to deal with you," he said, crouching down on his heels. "I have a-"

"I'm not going to be come your slave, kid, so you can just forget whatever it is you did to my sister."

"Idiot," she said, resisting the urge to kick in her brother's stupid face. As if _she _would ever become someone's slave. "Just listen to him."

The black haired android glared mulishly up at her for several moments longer, but then he released a heavy sigh and turned back to Saint Saiyan, his one good arm resting on an upraised knee.

Trunks nodded, holding up a bean in front of him. "You have a choice, android."

* * *

_Two hours later – Trunks_

The trip to Gero's Lab was… interesting.

17 accepted his deal, he would get the same chip installed in him that 18 had after they finished their business here. Problem was, the second the bean healed his injuries, he attacked Trunks and tried to get away.

18 stopped him the first time, earning herself an enraged tantrum the likes of which the saiyan had not seen since he'd kept the blonde android in the gravity chamber.

But they got underway eventually, after he convinced both androids that returning to their proverbial birthplace was necessary. 17 tried to escape again two more times during the trip over but Trunks stopped him both times.

Now, the black haired machine was leading the way, the better for he and 18 to keep their eyes on him.

It surprised him that he so easily considered the blonde android an ally but after her breakdown yesterday…

She showed him her fear, her innermost, deepest fear. It was laid bare before him, vulnerable and feeble and everything that 18 was _not. _And then, after he saw her at her weakest, she told him that she did not mind him being there. She cared not one whit if he saw her at her lowest and that touched Trunks deeply.

It humbled him, even.

But most of all, it made him giddy. Not because 18 broke down, no, never… but because she trusted him enough to accept his presence during that moment. That was something new for Trunks, never before had he experienced that with another person, ever.

Not with Gohan. Not with Mother. Certainly not with Father, in the past.

But instead with a former murderer that he would readily die for.

A murderer that had managed to become one of the people he wanted to protect.

"Why are you smiling?" The blonde android herself asked at his side, as they flew through the air.

He blinked, startled from his thoughts and returned to himself. Android 17 was still flying ahead of them, colorless power surrounding him. Next to him, with similar ki enveloping her body, 18 flew. She was currently staring at him out the corner of her eyes, a single eyebrow arched.

"Nothing much," he said, shaking his head. They were almost to Gero's lab now.

18 scoffed but looked away from him all the same. "I haven't been back to this place since I woke up. Almost-"

"Eighteen years ago, yeah," he said. "I was under a year old when it happened."

"When _it _happened," she parroted. "You mean when 17 and I killed all those weaklings?"

"Yeah," Trunks responded, feeling next to nothing as he did. Those deaths, sad and unnecessary though they were, did not affect him as deeply as Gohan's. He… He knew none of the people who died. There were no bonds there, they were just names and faces. "All the Z-Fighters perished when you two woke up. It happened just before my first birthday."

"Oh," 18 grunted, glancing over at him. "Sorry for killing them, then. That probably took attention away from you."

The saiyan released something that was half-grunt, half-laugh.

If anybody else on the planet said that to him, he would've assumed they were making a horrible joke.

But with 18, he had a feeling she was genuinely sorry. Not for killing people, but for doing it near his birthday.

"It's-" He started, then paused, because it was _not _okay. "We have more important things to worry about. We're nearly there, now."

The blonde hummed and glanced up at her brother. "You really think we'll find stuff about other androids there?"

"I don't know," Trunks responded, glad to be off the topic of death. "I know Dr. Gero made at least two more androids in the past… but neither of them looked like the one 17 described. An android with a vest… The best spot we can look to find information on it-"

"_Him._"

"Him," he conceded. "The best spot for information is in that lab."

18 harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest just as her brother slowed to a stop ahead of them.

They had arrived.

"I still don't like it," the blonde muttered, coming to a stop in the air. Below them, grasslands sporting a great number of rocky cliff-faces stood silent and innocent. A few trees dotted the landscape and, in the distance, a lake sat, idyllic and peaceful.

'_Perfect spot to hide your secret, evil lab,' _Trunks thought as he lowered himself to the ground. The androids followed behind him.

Once more, the surreal-ness of the situation and his allies struck him, but this time he dispelled the thoughts quickly. No need to get distracted. Not now.

His boots came to a stop on the grass in front of a cliff-face, one that sported a wide-mouthed cave. A small distance inside that cave, a heavy, metal door stood. It was warped and torn apart utterly.

'_The second victim of 17 and 18, after Gero,' _he thought as he paced inside the doorway.

Rocky terrain gave way to tiled flooring and natural cave walls ended where metal paneling began. He could see a great many vats with humanoid-looking figures drifting in them, none of them anywhere near completion and all of them likely unsalvageable. Without power, what life they might've had would've long since run out.

And the lab _was _without power. It was dark and silent, not a whisper of sound present but for his boots on the tile.

"16 was over there, before," he said, his voice echoing across the empty, metal room. He began walking toward one of the horizontal containment beds.

"Tch," 17 scoffed, somewhere behind him. "I can't see a thing. Why are we here again? There are better things-"

"Just shut up and look for androids," 18 snapped. "That Cell thing absorbs them, remember?"

"Yeah, _them_. We're fine, as long as the kid is here."

"Saint Saiyan can't beat Cell if he absorbs that android you were talking about, stupid," the blonde riposted, her voice rising. "Just look for information-"

"Alright! Alright! Geez… What a crummy day," the black-haired android griped. Though the sounds of him sifting through the lab's machinery _did _join the sounds of their footsteps after that.

Speaking of, he heard one set of footsteps getting closer…

Trunks straightened from his crouch over the bed, one he only just realized had a bold _17 _on its surface. The next one over, he figured, would bear an _18._

Those containers were the only pieces of machinery large enough to hold an android.

"Stupid lab," 18 muttered behind him, kicking something metallic across the floor. It slid into one of the wall panels.

_Clang!_

Then, she finished her thought: "It's even worse without power."

He released an explosive sigh and cast a half-hearted eye around the rest of the darkened interior. Plenty of half made skeletons, a few empty vats containing who-knows-what, some tall machines that were dull and lifeless… And nothing.

"Nothing," he muttered, crossing his arms. The timelines couldn't be _that _different. Goku still defeated the Red Ribbon Army here. Dr. Gero still created androids to kill him. "So why isn't there a 19 or a 16?"

"Maybe he never got to wake them up?" 18's voice said, at his side now.

He jumped.

She scoffed.

"That can't be," he said, swallowing the gasp that almost escaped him. "In the past, he woke up-"

"Yeah, in the _past_. Not here."

"That… that could be. It _is _different already. The Z-Fighters faced Dr. Gero and Android 19 before he went and woke you two up. But here…"

The blonde grunted. "So they're here somewhere. The guy had like, twenty labs in these mountains. We just need to find them."

"And information on that vested one," he murmured, pacing over to the walls of the laboratory. A low growl escaped him when he reached it and he unleashed a punch on the panels that resulted in a low _thud _echoing-

'_Wait… That didn't sound the same as before.'_

Trunks eyed the wall for a moment before he punched it again – his knuckles smarted fiercely but his efforts resulted in another _thud_.

"Trunks?" 18 asked, behind him, even as he moved to another wall panel. She was silent for a moment longer, then: "Saint Saiyan? Are you se- That's a wall, idiot."

He ignored her in favor of unleashing another punch on said wall, this one softer than the two previous. No need to do his hands any more damage, not when his softer punch still resulted in a low _thud_.

"Your boyfriend finally lost it, 18," 17 said as he crossed the lab to stand by her side.

"Trunks!"

_Thud_.

18 shook her head, disbelief causing her eyes to widen. "How childish. You aren't even wrecking it right."

_Thud_.

"Didn't the kid say _we _couldn't destroy this stuff?" 17 muttered, his arms crossed. "Why does _he _get to break it?"

"That's not- _He's _not breaking it, duh," the blonde responded, still eyeing Trunks.

_Thud_.

An explosive sigh escaped her lips and she dropped onto the containment bed that once held her captive. One leg crossed over the other, she perched on a corner of the metal.

_Thud_.

"Fine. Punch the walls, then. See if I-"

_Clang!_

"-care!. You're wasting time-"

_Clang!_

Trunks shoved his hand entirely through the wall on the next punch, silencing 18 from her spot on the containment bed. He then gripped the metal and heaved, tearing away a sizable portion of the paneling on the wall.

And revealing another containment bed. One marked _16_.

* * *

**A/N: **Enter Cell! And with him, the true first arc of the story begins. Trunks cannot reach the level of an Ascended Super Saiyan and so he must stop that monster from reaching his Perfect Form. But the question of how he even managed to get his _Im_perfect Form remains…

Any ideas? 17 kinda-sorta spoiled it, did you pick up on it?

(I really feel like I should say: "FIND OUT NEXT TIME, ON DRAGON BALL Z!")

But I won't. Even though I did.

Right… Carrying on, let's do some power levels, yeah?

**Trunks**

Base Power: 3

Super Saiyan: 6

Super Saiyan 2nd Grade: 8

Super Saiyan 3rd Grade: 10

**Android 17**

Base Power: 5

**Android 18**

Base Power: 5

**Imperfect Cell**

Base Power: 5

We see that Android 18 has evened herself out with 17, just so. And that Imperfect Cell is right there with her. Between 18, Cell and 17 at this point, I'd have to give it to 18 then Cell then 17.

Again, since all the numbers are condensed, it looks a bit closer than it really is.

Next point: Sorry for missing my post date yesterday! It got a bit hectic and thus, you get this one early Saturday instead. Next Friday **04/26/2019** should work out for chapter four, though. Expect to see it then.

And finally, let me know what you think! You guys are a big part of the reason I write, after all, because writing for myself is all well and good but without an outlet to _share _that effort it becomes a waste.

Specifically, what do you think of the character development between 18 and Trunks? Too fast? Just right? Too slow? It's a tad difficult to pace them in a way that feels in-character while at the same time moving the story along enough that it doesn't slow to a snail's pace. And on that note, how about 17 and Cell? I think I got 17 to a 'T' here, but I'd like to hear your thoughts all the same.

**Update 02/02/2020: **General spell checking/editing.

If you've stuck around until this point, I'm impressed and grateful you care enough to read my unfiltered ramblings, hah! But without further ado, let's jump into review responses:

**Frozenseed: **I was always partial to Trunks' lavender hair too… but at some point in Super, I switched. Future Trunks was always more like Bulma than he was a mixture of both her and Vegeta, after all. Kid Trunks having lavender hair makes sense, just like blue hair for Future Trunks fits him more. (Even though the two having different hair colors makes utterly no logical sense at all!)

**Sukarettimay: **I'm glad you picked up on Trunks' personality as a mixture of Gohan and Vegeta because that's exactly the angle I was trying to write! Even more, thank you for mentioning 18 still being… well, 18. An instant switch to being a reformed mass murderer would have been easier to write but I think delving into the details of _how _that might happen is more rewarding. More interesting. It might just me, but I think a character feels more real when more time is spent looking at their motivations and whatnot. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, I enjoyed reading them!

And a big thanks to my other reviewers as well! Your words bring a smile to my face and give my muse the kick in the pants it needs to write!

Till next time,

Phailen


	4. Chapter 4

**_This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z._**

* * *

_Android 18_

"So," she started, slowly, more to fill the silence enveloping the decrepit laboratory than anything else. "…We missed this one when we woke up."

17 grunted, reclining on the containment bed that once held him. His arms were crossed, his muscles were tense and his eyes were narrowed, currently focused on Saint Saiyan.

She released a put-upon sigh and sat herself upon the opposite end of the same metal container, turning to observe the saiyan as well.

His arms were well-defined and the teasing glimpses of his torso the tank-top offered her were distracting. His hands, so much larger than her own, were busying themselves with the control panel on the bed marked _'16'_. His eyes, a shade of blue darker than her own, were focused upon that same interface.

A hand came up to rub at her face and she sighed, again. A mixture of boredom, anxiety and desire made her thoughts into a chaotic mess.

18 knew that the creature, named Cell, was going to come back and try to absorb both herself and 17. She also knew that if the monster absorbed that vest-wearing android, Trunks might not be able to stop it any longer… And that was it, really.

Saint Saiyan was the one with a plan. The one moving with a purpose.

She and her brother were left to sit and wait. Idle. Bored.

Another sigh.

She wanted to _do _something.

That in mind, she stood up, uncrossed her arms, and strode across the darkened laboratory.

"So," she said, when she reached Trunks' side. "Why do you want to wake this guy up, exactly?"

"He fought with us in the past," he said, his eyes still focused on the panel. It was a complicated mess of buttons that controlled the various functions of which the bed was capable.

"Yeah, well, so did the other me and the other 17."

The saiyan paused, glancing over at her. The look in his eyes told her that he caught the implication.

"I- _We _have no choice. We have to take the chance."

"Hmm," she hummed, putting a finger to her bottom lip. Saint Saiyan's eyes tracked the digit a moment too long.

She smiled even as he quickly looked back down at the containment bed.

"You all fought against that Cell thing, right? The big green monster?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, clearing his throat. He touched a button – one he shouldn't have – and the panel lit up with a red glow. A scowl appeared on his face and he turned away from it to face her fully. "His perfect form is the only thing I'm worried about. That's… I can't beat him if he's in that form."

18 paused to consider a foe that Trunks could not beat… and found that she could not imagine such a thing. He was so _strong_, mostly thanks to his damnable saiyan blood. But the man had an unshakeable determination about him too – that purpose that she noticed earlier. He was driven. He was strong. He was commanding. He was charismatic.

And he was attractive.

And rich.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat, the better to refocus her wandering mind without Saint Saiyan realizing anything.

"What if 16 doesn't want to help us?"

He scowled, his fingers pausing. Quietly, he said: "Then… Then I might have to kill him."

She hummed again. "And if… 17 doesn't?"

Saint Saiyan did not respond immediately, instead pressing a few more keys on the panel in front of him. Each time, he received a red screen that warned him off whichever button he pressed. He tried one key combination, then two, then three, then four.

Then, finally: "If he doesn't… If it looks like Cell is going to absorb him then… I'll have to kill him too."

18 grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But not me?"

"Not you," he said at once, shaking his head. "But your brother…"

"If he becomes a liability, then he's done for," she agreed. Her sibling had been nothing but difficult since they found him and if he threatened her future – or Trunks' – then she was more than willing to see him put into the ground for it.

'_He's already abandoned me once anyway.'_

"I'm surprised you agreed so quickly," Trunks' voice said.

She returned her attention to him to find his eyes on her face. He was also facing her fully, now, no longer hunched over the containment bed for Android 16.

18 shrugged. "He's annoying now. I liked having him around while we explored, even if he did kill all the cute boys and burn all the clothing stores down. But now, I'd rather spend time with you. He's just in the way."

"What happens when someone stronger than me comes along?"

"You mean like Cell?" She asked, scowling. "Then we figure out a way to beat him and keep having fun."

He shook his head. "Not what I meant. What happens when you find someone you like more than me? Will I just be in the way then, too?"

"You're already in my way," 18 said, immediately. She shook her head. "Remember? If it weren't for you and your morals then I… Well-"

She swallowed.

"Oh. You're worried I might go back to what I was doing before? If I could?"

Trunks nodded, his eyes still intent and focused on her own. The dim lighting in the lab cast shadows upon his face.

"Humans are still weaklings. They just _are_. They're still annoying, but only if they get in my way or take the things I want. They're also still amusing to scare… But! But, they're also useful. I like it when they give me things I earned and I _still _want to give autographs to people, so I need them for that." She paused, blinking. "So… no. I don't want to go back to killing them. Not all of them, anyway. Or any? …I mean, you wouldn't like it so, I don't…"

She swallowed and growled low in her throat, frustrated over how tied her tongue had become. Simple words were beyond her now, apparently.

Then, she felt a hand on her cheek. _His _hand.

It was warm, and kind of rough and uncomfortable. But warm. And… safe. And big.

Her eyes closed of their own accord. Saint Saiyan's little gesture of affection was… was doing things to her mind and her thoughts. She felt light on her feet and scatterbrained. She felt warm.

But most of all, she felt safe. Comfortable, even amidst the lab where she and 17 were reborn.

"18," he whispered, somewhere in front of her. All she was really aware of was his hand.

"18… I… I don't know where to start. I know I'm glad you're here with me. I'm happy that you're trying, _really trying _to see humans in a different light, too… I never thought, all those months ago, that we'd be here now. Fighting Cell. On the same side. Trying to wake up another android… It's all so crazy! …But here we are."

He paused.

Her eyes slid open. Her hand tightened around his wrist, the one that led to his hand on her cheek.

'_When did I put that there?'_

"I don't know… what I'm feeling and-" He laughed, running his free hand through his hair. "And this is a really, really bad place to do this but… I just, I want you to know that… That you mean a lot to me, 18. _A lot_."

His eyes were still focused on hers and his face was close now, so close. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt warm and so, so light. She was happy too. Like when she tried on new clothes but so much more than that. Like spending time at a waterpark but better. She was happy and… and warm. And there was something else, there, too. A feeling that intensified whenever she laid eyes on Trunks. Affection of some kind? She knew it wasn't lust, although there was plenty of desire there.

18 thought it was love.

Because it was certainly more than _like_.

17 scoffed from across the room, his voice echoing across the dark lab. It was as shrill as it was annoying, to her. "Are you two-"

A blast of energy erupted from her free hand, lancing across the room at her stupid, idiotic, dimwit of a brother.

But she kept her eyes on Trunks' face, not wanting to lose this warm feeling. It was easily one of the most comforting, intoxicating things she'd ever felt.

She did not want it to go away.

Her hand landed on his cheek when he tried to look away to glare at her brother. Gently, but urgently, she directed his gaze back to her. His hand was still on her own cheek; still warm, still large, still rough, but no longer uncomfortable.

"Ignore him," she breathed, her eyes wide and darting over every detail of his face. His eyes. His jaw. The cheekbones. The teeth. Then, his lips.

He swallowed and said nothing, but obeyed.

He licked his lips.

What restraint she had left in her broke at that moment. Forget Cell. Forget her brother. Forget 16.

18 knew what she wanted.

And she _always _took what she wanted.

Her hand urged his face closer to hers at the same instant his hand upon her own cheek pulled her in as well.

She watched his lips grow closer until their faces were too close. She took one last look at his closing eyes and then, she slid her own shut too.

And then, he was just _there_.

His smell, intoxicating at a distance, became overpowering. The feel of his hand on her cheek. Of his hair brushing her forehead as he tilted his head down.

And his lips.

On hers'.

The warmth. The comfort. The safety. The tingling, maddening feeling that stole away the entirety of her focus.

Her knees decided that standing was over-rated then, and she leaned against him fully. Skin touched skin through clothes and suddenly 18 had a whole new array of feelings and sensations assaulting her.

She gasped.

Her lips moved minutely against his.

And another wave of bliss worked its way down her spine and to the tips of her toes.

Hesitantly, experimentally, she moved her lips again, her fingertips digging into the skin of his cheek. She felt his lips move _back _against hers and, suddenly, she understood why-

His other hand threaded its way through her hair and what power she had to stand on her own two feet left her then. Feelings, so new and overpowering and intoxicating, sapped her of her strength such that she all but collapsed into the planes of muscle stretching over his chest.

Unfortunately, the movement broke their kiss and she released a sound – something half a moan and half a keening whine – that she was utterly unaware she could even make. But that did not matter. Not to her.

Their breathing, heavier than usual, slowed until it became even again.

18 became aware of an arm she had thrown around his neck at some point. Her other one lay flat against the top of his chest, next to where she was currently pressing her face into his shoulder. He still had a hand on the back of her head and another had its fingers splayed across her lower back, under her clothing.

She had no idea how, or when, it got there.

"Wow," he murmured into her hair.

She hummed, lazily opening the eye that wasn't pressed up against the bare skin of his shoulder. The room was still dark and she could see the wreckage of a machine her energy blast destroyed earlier. 17 was sitting at the base of that machine, picking pieces of metal out of his hair.

A lazy grin stretched across her lips and she reached down with a hand to the panel on 16's container.

Trunks stepped out of their embrace when he saw her moving, for she could not reach the buttons entangled as they were.

She swallowed her sigh before it could escape, contenting herself with the knowledge that they could do it again. Later. And more, much more. Right after they took care of the green monster.

"I trust you, Trunks," she murmured, her fingers pressing seven keys in rapid succession on the containment bed. The panel lit up with a green light and it began to depressurize itself. "If you say we need this android, then I'll help wake him up."

Saint Saiyan's arms wrapping around her waist and the feel of his chest against her back enveloped her then. The same warm, safe feeling invaded her thoughts and her eyes closed themselves involuntarily. She leaned back fully into his embrace.

A deep, throaty chuckle emanated from his mouth, near her ear.

She shivered.

"I want to… explore this, later. After Cell."

She did, too.

* * *

_Trunks_

It was _hard _to keep his eyes off her.

He was hyperaware of her every movement. Every step she took. Every sound she made.

It was distracting to the point of incredulity.

He _should _be focused on the dead body of Android 16 in the containment bed before him, rotted and decayed as it was after having gone eighteen years without power. He _should _be focused on the threat that Cell posed if he got his hands on that vest-wearing android. He _should _be focused on finding that android before the green bio-android could.

'_He can't use 16 to ascend, given he's dead. 19 was never made here. Gero is dead. That just leaves this unknown android.'_

18 chose that moment to scoff from her position over the mechanical cradle. "He's seen better days."

"Yeah," 17 muttered, his arms crossed. He still has a little dust on his clothes and a few pieces of broken machinery stuck in his hair. The scowl on the black-haired android's face told Trunks that he was still mad over having an energy blast shot at him.

'_Serves him right for trying to interrupt.' _He thought, not the least bit peevishly.

Whatever.

"With 16 out of the picture, that leaves that vest wearing android as the only unknown," he said, glancing between the two androids with him. His eyes lingered on 18 – her lips, the way her jeans absolutely _clung _to her backside - longer than they perhaps should, a thought solidified when the blonde offered him that quirked-lip-smile.

His confidence, bolstered by their conversation earlier, led him to offer her a smile back.

He knew it was the right move to make when her own quirked lips pulled themselves up into a grin.

"Where did you last see him, 17?" He said, returning himself to the task at hand.

The male android scoffed, again. "Two days ago, in a city somewhere. I don't know what it's called, something unimaginative and mundane probably, like the weaklings-"

"Then we'll have to search through whatever Gero left behind to find him," 18 inserted, her eyes narrowing. "That disgusting green monster can't get to him first. I don't want to become his next meal."

He nodded, then-

"It may be too late for that, I'm afraid."

Trunks' eyes widened and he whirled around, toward the front of the lab-

Cell.

Perfect Cell.

The crown-like extensions on his head. The more human-esque face. The tougher looking, navy blue armor on his forearms, legs and upper portions of his chest. Even the _damn _smug smile reminded him-

_-energy blast rocketed toward him and he threw himself out of the way, but to no avail. It pierced the armor on his torso like it was cardboard and tore a hole through his chest. He went down, eyes wide and unfocused, but even through the haze quickly overwhelming his senses, he heard his father roar in anger and the beast in front of him laugh-_

Trunks swallowed and, only somewhat conscious of his body, took a step backward.

Perfect Cell scoffed, pointing with a finger at the saiyan. "_That _one knows his place. The last meal did not."

"Trunks?" 18 whispered, facing the green monster but eyeing him out of the corner of her eye. "Is this…"

He nodded, seeing fully the blonde's eyes widen and the smile fade from her lips, a grimace taking its place.

_Fear._

He was feeling it too. It was an old friend. A constant companion. A feeling that had been with him his entire life. The urge to look over his shoulder, the urge to hide his ki, the feeling that he could never, _ever _truly relax on this planet.

First with the android twins.

Now, with _this_.

Cell took one step forward, crossing the precipice of the darkened laboratory's heavy door. "Do not fear me, saiyan. I will not kill you, yet. I still have to test out this perfect form's capabilities. You will be my… lab rat."

And the being laughed.

Trunks exhaled sharply, a gasp that surprised even him, so real was the fear the bio-android's words caused within him.

Then, suddenly, 18 stepped in front of him.

"Fuck off, monster. I don't care how perfect you think you are, if you lay one _finger _on him, I'll rip off your arms!"

Cell laughed, delighted, and brought a hand up in front of his mouth.

Trunks only shook his head. "18, you can't-"

_-can't beat them! Trust me!" He'd said. But his father faced down 17 and 18 anyway, bold and defiant._

"_He's too strong!" He'd told Gohan, before he watched the boy hand Cell's ass to him._

"_We need to run!" He'd often tell his mentor, before the man would hold his own against the twin monsters terrorizing his world._

Since when had he become so fearful?

The answer came to him immediately, so familiar terror was to him. It was since he grew up with the android threat looming over his head, every single day of his life.

No, rather, since when had he allowed his fear to control him?

"Trunks!" 18 spat, glancing over her shoulder only for a second as Cell advanced further into the lab, his pace leisurely. She ignored the monster. "Get it together! Who cares if he's strong? We're not just going to _give up!_"

Cell laughed again and said something that pulled the blonde's attention back toward the threat at hand.

But her words resonated within his mind.

'_Who cares? Who cares if he's strong?'_

His father didn't. The Gohan of the past didn't. They lived.

The Gohan of his own time never asked that question either. He fought battle after battle despite knowing the androids were stronger than he was. He came back again and again and again and again because he knew what he was doing was _right_.

He never hesitated. He never looked back. He never _feared_.

And he was dead because of it.

'_But he died protecting the people he cared about,' _his mind raged. _'He died protecting you. Your mother. Chi-Chi. __**Everyone!**__ He fought because he cared! He never hesitated because he cared! Because he knew that running away was as good as giving up!'_

Trunks did not want to give up. He did not want to fear anymore. He did not want to run away or lose people close to him ever, ever again.

He breathed in, once, as purpose flooded his mind.

Power, latent, dormant, held down by his doubts and fears roared within him. Fighting and struggling to be set free.

He wanted to _fight_.

He needed to _fight_.

For 18.

For Mother.

For _everyone!_

Ki exploded out of him and the power of the Super Saiyan flooded his veins. Further, he focused the energies within him, honing them into a deadly force, controlled by his ironclad will and directed by his set purpose.

His muscles bulged. His aura flared. Lightning crackled about his fingertips.

The mechanical test beds were pushed away from his feet, unable to withstand the force his power put upon them. Machinery crackled and sparked and cried out in fury as it was utterly destroyed by the sheer force of his will to fight.

18 glanced back at him, that coy smile on the corner of her lips.

17 stepped away from him, a wary look set upon his face that showed itself in the narrowing of his eyes and grinding of his teeth.

Cell, Perfect Cell, stopped advancing entirely. He cocked his head and stared.

Trunks released one final yell of exertion, pushing his power for all that it was worth and…

And fell short.

His aura settled about him, powerful and raging with purpose and intent. But it was not the aura of an Ascended Super Saiyan. Of a Super Saiyan that broke even the legendary limits of their bloodline's most powerful form.

He was still a Super Saiyan. But it would do.

'_It has to.'_

"The Super Saiyan," Cell murmured, bringing up a hand to rest his chin on his knuckles. "Such an amazing transformation. Truly, I understand now why the good doctor added saiyan cells to my biological makeup."

17 lurched in surprise and 18 spat a curse under her breath.

But Trunks disregarded the androids. They would only be distractions in the coming fight, such was Perfect Cell's strength.

Without Super Saiyan Two, he would need all his wits about him to even stand a chance against the monster looming ahead of him.

He moved, quickly and powerfully, _through _containment beds. They bounced off his aura like it was a physical thing and pulled shouts of alarm from the androids' mouths as they tried – and failed – to track him. His fingers curled into a fist, enshrouded in that same golden power, and he thrust it forward as he reached the monster.

A punch he half committed to. A blow to test the bio-android's defenses.

Cell did not disappoint.

It swatted aside Trunks' fist with a contemptuous ease, its other fist rocketing toward the saiyan's head immediately thereafter. Its blow missed, only just, as he ducked under it-

Straight into Cell's rising knee.

Trunks threw himself to the side, onto the ground, and turned what would have been a badly broken nose into a glancing blow that only left his ears ringing. Instinct driving him more than awareness, he bounced off the ground with both hands and thrust his feet up at the monster's face.

But it caught one of his boots in one hand and, suddenly, Trunks found himself weightless and flying through-

A blast of energy flashed through the air and his feet were released suddenly. Blonde hair flew by him accompanied by a woman's battle cry.

Trunks landed roughly on a knee and twisted back toward the monster just in time to see him grasp 18's forearm and haul her bodily off the ground. His other hand charged an energy blast.

The saiyan threw himself at the bio-android, shoulder lowered, but Cell only threw the blonde at him. Quickly, he straightened out of his charge and caught her as she impacted his chest. The air was forced from his lungs and-

The bright flare of an energy blast erupted in front of him. He turned his back to it, the better to protect 18.

_Pain _erupted from his back and he released a choked cry from it as he was tossed through the air, the blonde android still cradled against his chest. His nerve endings were alight with fire and agony, so it was the woman in his arms that arrested their momentum, stopping them both before they were thrown into a laboratory wall.

But only just.

It was a close thing, such was Cell's newfound power.

Trunks released a breath, cringing when it agitated his back, but forced himself to turn around nonetheless.

Only to find Cell staring down at its hands.

In the same spot it started in, no less.

Fear began to gnaw at the edges of his mind. But Trunks forced it back, well aware that it was far, far too late to fear, now. Nothing but determination and purpose would see him through this fight alive.

A lesson his Father knew well, that his mentor knew well.

A lesson he himself was only just learning.

'_No fear,' _his mind repeated as he released a breath. Be it his adrenaline or an underpowered ki blast, his back only dimly twanged with pain this time. A fact he was grateful for.

"This power," Cell breathed, still looking down at his hands. "Such power. The good doctor certainly knew what he was doing…"

Trunks exhaled and refocused his intent as he did so. The empowered state of Super Saiyan he was maintaining was hard on his stamina reserves. Already, he felt himself begin to pant for breath that did not seem to fully come to him.

"What do we do?" 18 asked from his shoulder, lowering herself into a defensive stance as she did so.

A far cry better than what her brother was doing, crouching like a cornered rat across the room. The black-haired android's eyes were darting between Cell and the open doorway behind him.

Trunks put thoughts of 17 from his mind. They would not help him now, just like the android would not help him, so concerned for himself was he.

So unlike his sister, now.

"I have one last trump card," the saiyan murmured under his breath. "But I need to get close to it to use it."

"It? …I guess that monster _is _an _it._" She said, nodding. "I'll distract it. Just make sure you get that thing good."

"Oh, I will," he muttered darkly, a scowl forming on his lips even as anger began to gather in his mind.

He welcomed it.

It would be needed for his final gambit. The sacrifice of all his speed and agility to put everything he had into the _power _a Super Saiyan offered him.

18 rocketed forward.

He followed in her wake, his aura flaring and fluctuating wildly.

She released an energy blast at the ceiling above Cell's head. The metal plating there was sundered and shrapnel rained down on the bio-android. In the chaos, 18 came in low with a leg sweep-

Cell's leg swung up even as he used a forearm to block the metal pieces falling on him. His foot landed in the blonde's gut and, with a great _wush _of air, she was thrown aside, hacking and coughing and wheezing and as boneless as a puppet with its strings cut.

And then, there was nothing left between him and Cell.

Trunks kicked off the ground and brought his knee up to the bio-android's face – an attack that was dodged simply by a shifting of the head. The saiyan did not let that deter him, flipping head-over-heels until he could bounce off the ceiling and drive his shoulder into the top of the monster's head.

But Cell only reached up and caught one of his arms with a single hand, arresting his momentum entirely. It then tossed him to the ground at its feet.

Trunks bounced back up as quickly as he could, but a fist holding a jagged piece of metal forced him to duck down again.

This time, Cell's knee connected.

He went down with a cry and his sight wavered. The power surging through him was almost lost in the shock, but he managed to pull it back in at the last second. His focused then returned to the fight, just in time to see the monster's leg stomp down on his chest.

Air was forced from his lungs with an explosive gasp and he immediately began clawing at the armor on the leg holding him down. His fingers struggled to find purchase, though, and the strength behind the limb was vastly beyond his own.

A second gasp was forced from him when the pressure increased and he felt his ribs began to creak, groan and pop in protest. His legs kicked at the ground, useless.

Energy blasts were suddenly fired at Cell in a barrage of light and energy, accompanied by 18's shriek from somewhere deeper in the lab. The monster only lifted an arm and weathered the storm, though, all the while smirking down at Trunks from behind its defense.

Then, 18 was in front of it, lashing out with a kick.

Trunks gasped again and one of his ribs _cracked_ as Cell caught the android's leg. It then swung its arm out in a wide arc and-

18 shrieked again, somewhere above him.

But this time, she was in pain.

'_Pain,' _his mind repeated, numb with agony coming from his chest. Pain was something he knew well at that moment.

But it was not something he wanted 18 to know.

He _never _wanted her to be in pain.

Cell's arm swung up, then, and he caught a glimpse of the blonde android being dragged along for the ride. She impacted the ceiling hard enough to dent the metal.

Their eyes met.

Only for an instant.

Only long enough for him to blink before the moment passed.

Her teeth were bared in a snarl even as blood ran down her forehead. Her eyes widened then narrowed again when she caught sight of him.

And, even as she was whipped through the air once more, she formed and threw an energy blast at Cell's face.

It _hit_.

The bio-android froze, leaving 18 to dangle, dazed from her latest impact with the metal walls of the lab, from his hand.

And the pressure on Trunk's chest abated, for just an instant.

But, like 18, all he needed was an instant.

Rage and anger flooded his veins. At his position. At his helplessness. At this _monster's _gall to attack 18.

Trunks raged at his fear. He raged at the world he lived in. At his life of running and hiding.

He raged at lives lost and people he never got to know.

He raged at the injustice he was forced to live through every _single fucking __**day!**_

And his power answered.

His muscles bulged to impossible sizes, ripping through the tank-top he wore and the strap upon which his sword's sheathe rested. His hair grew even more brittle and wild, sticking out almost straight to the side. His teeth bared themselves in a snarl.

And he _yelled_.

Vaguely, he was aware of Cell dropping 18.

Vaguely, he was aware of the blonde scooting away from them on her backside, jaw agape and eyesbrows raised.

Vaguely, he was aware of a torrent of cursing from the corner in which 17 hid.

Vaguely, he was aware of the monster above him shouting something.

But intimately, he was aware of the fact that his fingers _finally _found purchase on the monster's leg.

By tearing right through the armor.

He lifted the bio-android up and off him, not relinquishing his grasp even as it began to rain down punches on his head and shoulders.

The pain was there, but it was dulled and overpowered by his rage.

This time, _Cell _was hurled into the wall hard enough to dent the metal. This time, _Cell _was thrown into the ceiling.

This time, it was _his _turn to do some damage.

Gasping and panting with both rage and exertion, Trunks ripped the bio-android free from the ceiling and slammed him into the ground, still maintaining his hold. He then pulled the monster up to his chest and wrapped both arms around its arms and torso.

"Unhand me, you-"

The power within him thrummed and pulsed with his rage, growing more and more powerful until he felt ready to burst from all the energy. It lashed out at his surrounding, tearing gouges in the floor and the walls, wild and unrestrained.

Just like his rage.

It was only when his entire body began to glow with a golden energy that he knew what was coming.

Memories of his father unleashing an attack at the Perfect Cell of the past flooded his awareness. Of the power. Of the name. Of the damage wrought to the monster's body.

But Trunks knew he lacked the focus. He could not direct this energy.

"18!" He yelled. "Run! Now!"

The glowing grew brighter and Cell struggled valiantly in his arms. The empowered Super Saiyan form held him tight, though – for what it lacked in speed it made up for in spades in power.

"I'm not leaving you, idiot!"

"Forget that," 17 yelled, dashing by Trunks and out the open laboratory door. The black-haired android only narrowly dodged the lashing, angry golden energy on his way out.

"_Now _18!"

The energy was testing the very uppermost limits of his control, now. The metal tiles beneath his feet cracked and splintered, pulling he and Cell down into a crater of his own making. The monster itself roared in anger, still struggling mightily.

Trunks knew he couldn't hold on much longer. This form demanded energy like no other. That, combined with the attack he was inadvertently building up meant he already had whiteness gathering at the corners of his vision.

'_Not much longer.'_

A flash of blonde hair caught his attention and he looked up just in time to catch 18's eyes as she escaped the lab. An emotion he could not recognize was on her face and, unfortunately, he had no time to decipher just what she was feeling in that instant.

For his attack was _ready_.

He released his control on his ki, feeling it flare up with such urgency that he released a gasp. Bright golden light began emit from his very skin and a burning sensation quickly followed it.

Trunks screamed.

Pain and rage and _power _coalesced until it reached a breaking point and overtook his vision entirely.

In that instant, he saw nothing but golden light and the disintegrating form of Perfect Cell.

"_**Final Flash!**__" _He roared with everything he had left.

And then, his world turned black.

* * *

_Android 18_

The lab was quiet now.

She watched from as close a distance as she could as Trunks…

A swallowed gasp that was half sob escaped her.

'_Stupid Saint Saiyan. Stupid!'_

A piece of the laboratory's ceiling fell to the ground beside her, pulling the blonde from her thoughts.

The lab was a wreck, now, all ruined machinery and sundered metal tiles. It looked like someone had stuffed machinery into a natural cave and left the job half finished. And even what natural rock she could see in the dim interior was glassed over. A massive crater was now set in the center of place, too.

Such was the power of Trunks' last attack.

'_Not his last,' _her mind raged. _'He's here somewhere. Just… He's __**not **__dead. He's-'_

Something moved, deeper in the wreckage.

She released a gasp, casting her eyes about the destruction.

The scratching sound, like something was trying to claw its way out of the wreckage, continued. She followed it over to a particularly darkened corner of the laboratory, where plenty of broken machines and cracked metal tiles had been thrown in the wake of Trunks' attack, too far away from the epicenter to be disintegrated entirely but close enough to be tossed about in the wake of the released energy's power.

18 fell to her knees in front of that pile of wreckage and immediately began to dig. A piece of metal that bore her number was tossed to the side. A circuit board was excavated and thrown away too. Some metal piping was grabbed and disregarded instantly.

Further and further she dug. Through layer upon layer upon layer of broken metal.

Her breathing grew harsher and quicker, not through exertion but because the scratching sound had stopped.

And if the scratching had stopped…

'_Don't. Don't even go there. He's too strong to stop now, he's not-'_

At that very moment, as she tossed aside another piece of broken metal paneling, she came upon the sight of a hand.

A pale hand, with dark armor covering what she could see of the forearm.

18 backpedaled away from the rubble, swallowing heavily as she did so.

"Oh, come now," _that _voice said from beneath the wreckage. "Don't be rude! Get me out of here, kind stranger!"

"Fuck you," she breathed, her fists clenching. "_Fuck you!"_

"Oh." It released a sigh. "It's just you."

The blonde's breathing, already quickened from her earlier panic, was reduced fully to gasps now.

But this time it was her rage affecting it.

"You… You _monster!"_ She roared, throwing both her hands over her head. Energy gathered in her palms and her cracked, bloodied lips split into a grin.

Because what better way was there to finish this beast than with Saint Saiyan's own attack? One she'd seen him use time and time again in the gravity chamber. One she felt a sort of poetic justice for using now.

18 thrust both hands down in front of her chest, pointed at the rubble.

"Finish Buster!"

A wide arc of golden energy shot forth from her palms and encompassed the hand peeking out the rubble entirely. It then carried on, forward, until it had covered that entire corner of the lab in searing power.

Metal and earth was tossed aside with abandon and the blonde was cut several times as wreckage flew passed her, but she stood strong and kept up the attack. The flow of energy she was maintaining to her hands stayed consistent.

Her attack, _Trunk's _attack, continued.

Because she wanted this monster _dead_.

She only stopped after she saw that every piece of metal in that pile of rubble had been incinerated. It might've been seconds since she started, or minutes, or longer… she did not know. She did not care.

The only thing 18 cared about-

"I see now why you stopped digging me out," its voice said, from within the dust cloud left behind by her Finish Buster. That dust cleared quickly when a subtle wave of power was unleashed from within it.

And Perfect Cell was revealed to her in full.

"I had hoped to regenerate more before you found me, meal," it said, lowering its lone remaining arm. There was a burn mark on the dark blue armor there, no doubt where it had blocked her attack. "To see me in such a state – how embarrassing!"

18 bared her teeth in a snarl, her fingers closing into fists.

"Oh come now," it said, reclining fully against the wall behind it. It was on the ground, for it had no legs or lower half to speak of. Only a portion of its torso, part of its head and one full arm survived Trunks' fury.

But even as she watched, part of the monster's abdomen… _grew _out of its upper half.

It must have seen her eyes widen, for it laughed.

"You didn't truly think that attack would finish me?!" It cackled, laughing long and hard. She took several steps backward even as it calmed and said: "That brat's efforts were surprising. _Impressive_ even. But he was no match for me."

"Don't talk about him," she spat, almost on instinct. Renewed anger flooded her veins, heady and potent. "You don't deserve to know his name!"

"And you do, android?" It said, even as more of its lower half regrew. "You know nothing-"

She roared and fired another energy blast at him, one he deflected with contemptuous ease.

"See?! Do you not see?!" It laughed. "We are the same, you and I! Beings of awesome power not fit to be restrained by the _weaklings _on this planet! Join with-"

She shrieked again, outraged beyond thought that it would compare itself to _her_.

Enraged doubly because it was half _right_.

A full barrage of energy blasts left her hands, peppering the bio-android with deadly streaks of power. They tore metal from the walls, tile from the floor and blasted away chunks of earth from where there was no metal left to destroy.

And all the while, Cell laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

So she screamed, wordless and raw.

Again and again and again.

Until she was left panting in the wake of her tantrum, staring at the renewed cloud of dust.

"You and I are alike one another, android," _it _said from within the cloud, its voice level and calm, now. A stark contrast to her heaving gasps. It continued: "Join with me, and we will rule this pathetic planet."

"And be absorbed by you," she spat. "Never. Monster."

It chuckled lowly and the dust cloud finally dissipated, revealing the monster in full. It now had half of a leg back, in addition to its arm. The remaining two limbs were currently nothing more than stumps and a good portion of one side of its torso was missing.

"So be it, I did not want it to come to this," it murmured, lifting its own hand up toward her.

Her eyes widened and she threw herself to the ground even as the monster's energy blast rocketed over her head. Another one followed it its wake and she skittered across the ruined lab floor to avoid that one too. But then another followed after that one. She jumped over it.

Soon, what seemed like an endless chain of energy hounded her, forcing her to dodge the deadly blasts with everything she had.

All the while, in the corner, Perfect Cell regenerated.

After one particularly close call, she hit the broken floor of the lab _hard_. Her hands broke her fall and the many cuts on her skin stung when they came into contact with the shattered floor. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her breathing still came in gasps, though no longer because she was angry. No, it was all due to the exertion required of her to stay alive under Perfect Cell's onslaught.

Quickly, she rubbed at her eyes and forced herself to her feet-

Only to freeze half way there.

For, under another pile of metal and dirt, she saw the tip of Trunks' sword.

A gasp left her lips and she flew – low to the ground and as quickly as she could – to the rubble. Her hands dove into the wreckage and received a great many cuts because of it, digging as deep as she could manage.

But 18 cared nothing for the pain emanating from her arms.

For, at the bottom of the rubble, she felt skin.

'_Trunks!'_

A line of energy lanced of her head, very narrowly missing her.

"Come now, don't be so difficult," its voice said from across the lab.

She chanced a glance over her shoulder, finding the bio-android on its feet – or foot, as it were, for it still only had the one leg. Its only full arm was being used to support its lack of a second leg. What energy it might've used for flight was being devoted to that damnable regeneration.

18 turned back to the pile of rubble in front of her, pushing further into the sharp pieces of metal and receiving countless new cuts on her arms because of it. Her searching hands closed around a bicep, wide and thick and wet with what she could only assume was blood.

And she _heaved_.

Metal was dislodged and thrown away from the pile and she rose fully into the air. Her arms emerged from the rubble first, then her hands and with them came Trunks' arm, mangled and broken. His shoulder followed and his head after that, the bluish-lavender locks of hair atop his head matted and darkened with his own blood.

"Oh?" Cell said behind her, heavy, slow footsteps growing closer by the second. "The brat? He survived?"

The bio-android was not attacking her, for what reason she did not know, but she decided not to question it and instead kept pulling Saint Saiyan from the rubble. 18 could tell instantly that he was not in a good way. His body, naked from the waist up, was bloodied and bruised. Most of his skin was red and raw, as though burned by fire.

'_Or by that energy,' _her mind needled even as she heaved again. Half of the saiyan's body was free from the wreckage, now. His lower half, unfortunately, was caught underneath a piece of toppled machinery.

Without hesitation, she unleashed an energy blast from one of her hands, obliterating the offending hunk of metal.

Cell laughed behind her. "Careful now. Don't injure him, meal. I want him alive and well after I absorb you."

Something half way between a gasp and growl escaped her and she _heaved _one last time, finally, mercifully, pulling Trunks from the rubble entirely. What remained of his pants only managed to barely keep him modest, held in place by mostly-destroyed belt. The skin of his legs was cut up and blooded and one of his legs was broken in a bad way. His lower half was burned too, perhaps worse than his upper half.

He looked nothing like the saiyan that 18 knew. This broken, defeated corpse-

'_Not a corpse! He's alive. He __**has **__to be alive!'_

But she could not check now, not while Cell loomed ever closer. Now, she had to run. Far. Fast. Away from here.

18 froze for a moment, caught up in her thoughts, but then she dove to the ground and threw Trunks' arm over her shoulder. His sword – sheathe and all – was grabbed by her other hand. Then, she kicked off the ground-

And was hit by an energy blast. The blow blindsided her utterly and tossed Trunks from her grasp, closer to the entrance of the laboratory. She herself was thrown deeper within the darkened confines, away from the open doorway.

Her back impacted something solid and she grunted at the impact, her ears ringing and vision blurring. She slumped over on the ground, staring at her hands blankly. Her thoughts were sluggish, now, for a reason she could not identify. The blonde was only aware of the distracting, pulsating pain emanating from the back of her head.

She was… She blinked several times, attempting to focus her eyes once more.

Something thudded in the distance, sounding far from her position in the… in whatever this place was.

18's eyes focused, finally, blessedly, upon the object in her hands.

A sheathed sword. One she knew.

Another thud, closer this time.

'_Sword,'_ she thought. _'I know this sword. Why did Saint Saiyan give-'_

Then, as though a switch was flipped in her head, awareness returned to her. Saint Saiyan. The lab. The dead android 16. Perfect Cell. Trunks' final attack.

She swallowed and pushed herself, laboriously, back to her feet. The blonde swayed once and then caught herself fully, lifting her head up until she could inspect the rest of the darkened laboratory.

Trunks, near the open doorway from which sunlight flooded into the ruined hideout.

Debris and rubble laying haphazardly across said ruined hideout.

And Cell, in between herself and Saint Saiyan.

The monster was close to her, now, too close. And with a mostly formed second leg. If he managed to get both back before she could escape… she was done for.

The only silver lining in the situation lay in the fact that he still only had one arm.

"Come now, 18," he murmured, looking down his nose at her. He was only a body length or two away from her, now, silhouetted by the bright light spilling into the lab from the entrance.

The effect made the beast look all the more threatening.

Its leg quivered and shook, then, growing just beyond the knee.

"We can do this the hard-"

She moved, jumping to the side in an effort to get out of the corner she was in. The monster was smart, though, for it approached her in such a way that there was only one way she could go to escape.

Cell's fingers closed around her ankle and she found momentum arrested. Her body was pulled back to the monster and she, desperate, pulled Trunks' sword from its sheathe and swung it at the monster's head.

Lacking another arm to defend itself, the bio-android was forced to release her and block the blade with its forearm armor. A scowl grew on its face even as she planted her feet in its gut and used it as a springboard to leap away.

One legged as the beast was, it fell back onto the ground.

18 wasted no time in darting for the entrance of the lab, half-flying, half-scrabbling over rubble to reach Trunks' body. Once there, she threw the saiyan and his sword out into the open air, followed after them and, her breathing again short, turned with both of her hands over her head to face the darkened interior of the lab.

Where Perfect Cell now stood, his second leg now regenerated to around his ankle.

'_No time!' _Her mind screamed as energy gathered between her palms once more.

The monster, grinning now, raised its remaining arm up to block the attack.

But 18 was not aiming for him.

"Finish Buster!" She yelled, energy surging forth from her fingertips to impact the natural cave ceiling just before the lab's door. She heard Cell yell something wordless at her even as the cave, severely weakened by Trunks' last gambit, began to collapse and rubble quickly began to pile in front of the open doorway, swiftly burying the monster inside the lab.

"This won't hold me!" It shouted at her, planting its newly formed foot down onto the ground again. Its one full hand thrust itself forward but debris knocked the limb away. Even more impacted its head and it was forced down to a knee.

Rock very quickly obstructed her view of the lab's interior then and she turned tail, gasping and only half-conscious. Trunks' arm was again thrown over her shoulder and the sword in its sheathe was stuck down the leg of her jeans, for its strap had been torn apart when Saint Saiyan did the enraged thing earlier.

Her cargo secured, 18 blasted off into the sky and ran.

Not once did she look back.

* * *

_Bulma Briefs_

She was used to this feeling.

She was used to watching Trunks leave, time and time again, and wondering if she had just seen her son for the last time in her life.

Bulma Briefs _hated _this feeling.

The helplessness. The uselessness. Like she was just… like she was unnecessary. Just a hindrance or…

She released an agitated breath through her nose and leaned away from her workbench, one of the many batteries that powered the time machine atop it, its inner circuitry exposed to her keen eyes and steady hands.

Or, normally keen eyes.

Normally steady hands.

For she was distracted and annoyed, right now. Her eyes would flicker up to the digital clock hanging on the wall what seemed like every minute. Her hands twitched at every sound and her fingers were jittery.

She was in no state to work on the time machine, this she knew.

But at the same time, she _needed _to distract herself, somehow.

Because Trunks was gone again.

For the first time in months, her son was out there, potentially putting his life on the line to protect this planet. This ungrateful, ignorant world. It didn't deserve her son, no one on this planet did. But he risked himself for it anyway, as selfless, courageous and righteous as he always was.

Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes and, quickly, she wiped it away.

But now, Trunks had that machine with him. The blonde android. One of the very beings that Bulma spent countless days and nights worrying would become her son's murderer.

The day Trunks brought that machine back to Capsule Corps was still the most surreal day of her life. Seeing that blonde android beaten… _broken_ even, was a balm to her spirit that she was unaware she needed. It was like a massive weight had been taken off of her shoulders, like she could suddenly breathe again.

It felt like the nightmare she'd been living within was over.

Trunks could live his life, now. Find a girl, go see movies, go hang out with friends. He could do all the things he missed growing up with the android threat looming over his head. Live his life fully.

That thought, at the time, made her happy beyond words.

But her son was not happy after catching the machine. He was angry.

He was angry, she realized, because he saw the capture as a failure.

He wanted to end _both _of the androids, such was the strength of his will to protect the people on this planet.

People that Bulma felt, once more, did not deserve him.

No one deserved her son.

No one was good enough for him to protect. He was selfless, driven, kind and everything she hoped he would be.

But she sent Trunks to those very same people anyway. She sent him out to help those people rebuild their city because, she realized, he felt that they _did _deserve him. But he was so caught up in his anger at losing one of those androids, he hadn't realized how much the world appreciated him.

The day he spent helping people ended up being good for him. He returned to the house that day happier, smiling in a way that made her smile, too. He trained less after that and… and he started to _live_.

The constant threat of the other android was still there, of course, but as day after day passed without a single sign of him, she saw Trunks relax.

And then, that fateful day came.

The day he decided to give the blonde android a second chance.

Because Trunks' ability to see the good in people even extended to mass murdering machines.

Bulma was _still _unable to put words just how proud of him she was.

But that pride quickly disappeared, not because of anything Trunks did, but because the machine actually _accepted_.

Bulma had thought that Trunks would be turned down. She had thought that the mass murderer held captive in their spaceship's gravity chamber would spit on his offer of a second chance at life. She had thought that their lives would go on with the same new sense of normalcy they'd enjoyed for the previous three months.

But that didn't happen, the blonde android accepted her son's offer.

And suddenly, Bulma was forced to deal with seeing that murderer's face every day.

And it terrified her, in all honesty. Not because she feared for her own life, not primarily, anyway… Rather, it terrified her because that fear reminded her of all the times Trunks left the house. All those times she was left to sit and twiddle her thumbs, wondering whether or not she'd just seen her son for the last time in her life.

Times like this one.

With an explosive sigh, Bulma pushed herself away from her workbench. Her feet took her up the stairs and into the quiet – too quiet – living room. From there, she walked into the kitchen, retrieved a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water.

Her eyes screwed themselves shut as she drank, as if that could make her forget what was going on outside.

But it couldn't, she knew that.

Trunks was out there, again, fighting for the people on this planet.

Irrationally, Bulma knew she hated the people of Earth on some level for making her son do this.

But… but this time, he had help.

It was a small silver-lining, completely unexpected, but there all the same.

For Bulma Briefs saw easily the affection growing between her son and the machine. That Trunks could even think of the blonde android in that regard spoke to her of the depths of his forgiveness. Of his goodness. The pride she felt in him renewed but it was countered by a healthy dose of wariness too.

She knew her son was genuine in his affections, but she could not say the same of the machine.

It left her feeling incredibly conflicted.

And now, she was forced to put her trust in that very same machine to watch her son's back out there.

Bulma found it much easier to trust Gohan to do that.

Her glass of water, only half full now, was placed back on the counter and she used the heels of her hands to rub at her eyes.

This endless waiting, familiar though it was-

_Bang!_

Her eyes flew open and she ran to the living room at the sound of her front door being thrown open. She rounded the corner-

"Trunks!" She screamed, her eyes widening fully as she sprinted up to the android. Her son was in the blonde's arms, bruised and burned and-

"What did you do?!" She spat at the machine, her eyes darted over her boy's body. Barely a shred of skin remained on him that was not covered in blood, bruises and burns.

"Nothing," the android breathed. "It was Cell! It was-"

"Get a sensu bean!" Bulma demanded, taking Trunks away from the machine. The android relinquished him without a fight and she wasted no time in picking him up in her arms and carrying him over to a couch nearby. Gently, she placed him down upon it, her limbs not even remotely feeling all of his weight, such was the intensity of the adrenaline coursing through her.

It was only after she set him down and pulled the hair away from his bruised eyes that she realized the machine was still standing in the open doorway of her home, Trunks' sword on the floor near her feet.

"What are you doing!?" She yelled, looking back down at her son. "Get a bean! _Now!"_

"Where-"

"The pouch on his dresser!" Bulma shouted back, her fingertips shaking as she placed them against Trunks' neck. "Go! A _bean _you idiot!"

The machine flew up the stairs without any further protest and she vaguely recognized the sound of a door being thrown open upstairs. She ignored the machine, however, and instead searched with dogged determination and growing desperation for a pulse on her son-

'_There!'_

A sob escaped her and the wetness gathering in her eyes spilled over onto her cheeks when she felt a skin beneath her fingers move. Trunks' pulse was there.

Barely.

"_Machine!" _She roared, finally looking up at-

At the blonde android's tear-stained face.

So foreign was the idea that the android could cry – despite having seen her breaking down not even a day before – that Bulma forgot herself and the situation at hand for just a moment. Never before had she seen anything but anger on the android's visage. She thought the mass murderer could not feel anything. She thought that Trunks' affections would go unanswered or, worse, that the machine would manipulate him by faking her own affection.

But this…

The blonde's lips were trembling. Her eyes were wide open. Dried blood caked one side of her head and trailed down her cheek. Her skin was scuffed and her arms were an absolute mess of bloody cuts and dirt streaks.

And her mouth was moving.

"-here!" The machine yelled again, thrusting an open hand in front of Bulma's face.

And in the blonde android's palm rested a sensu bean.

Bulma's eyes widened and, angry beyond words with herself for forgetting her son, snatched the bean from the machine's palm. She put it in Trunks' mouth without delay and lifted up his upper body. Her other hand went to his throat and his mouth both, to massage the bean down and keep his lips sealed.

The machine's hands joined her own after just a moment, supporting her son's back with a strength Bulma did not know and covering fully his mouth. Thus, the blue-haired woman was left to coax the life-giving bean down Trunks' throat in earnest.

And coax it she did. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity but was in reality only a few seconds, she felt the sensu bean drop down his throat and-

Her son gasped, sitting up fully under his own power even as his injuries healed themselves with an urgency that was unnatural. Unblemished skin replaced burnt flesh. Bones horribly broken knitted themselves back together again. Bruises healed and cuts were mended.

All of it done within but a second or two.

But Bulma cared nothing for that, not now, not after seeing him in the android's arms, in that condition.

"Trunks!" She sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck. His own arm wrapped around her in turn, the palm landing on her back, and she released a heaving sob into his shoulder.

"Wha- …Mom? 18?" He said and his chest expanded below her as he pulled in a large gulp of air. "…What are you- The last thing I remember is light and Cell- Cell!"

Trunks twisted on the couch and Bulma came to a stop next to him, her arms still wrapped about his neck and shoulders in a vice-grip. The palm on her back started rubbing a spot between her shoulders even as she tried, somewhat successfully, to get her breathing back under control.

"18," he said. "Is Cell destroyed?"

Silence.

Then: "Shit! That wasn't enough?!"

Bulma pulled her face away from Trunks' shoulder just in time to see the machine shake her head.

"It blew him to bits but…"

"The regeneration," her son said, nodding. "Then, you got away from him?"

The blonde android nodded and only then did Bulma notice Trunks' other hand was clasped between the machine's two palms.

"It was a close thing," the android said. "But I got you out…" She chuckled weakly amidst a sniffle, gesturing with one of her hands to the still-open doorway. "Even got y-. A hiccup interrupted her. "Your stupid sword."

Trunks sighed and his shoulders slumped. His eyes trailed up to the machine's face and then he tensed all over again.

"18!" He said, urgent, his eyes darting up and down the android's body. "Are you okay?! You need a sensu bean!"

He started to get up and Bulma had half a mind to not release her hold on him, because she just came very, _very _close to losing him forever. But good sense won out in the end and, reluctantly, she let him stand. Her mind knew that he was in perfect health again, such was a power of a sensu bean, but her emotions hadn't quite caught up yet.

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

"Idiot," the android said, laughing in a way that drew Bulma's attention.

Because it was not cruel or mocking or anything like the sort of laughter she'd heart escape the machine before. No… this one sounded almost… almost _sad_.

Indeed, when the blue-haired woman looked to the machine now she that the blonde was crying again. One hand was rubbing at her eyes and the other was still grasping Trunks' hand so hard that her knuckles were white.

"You almost _die_ and the first thing you think about-" The blonde android stopped suddenly and released a shuddering kind of breath that spoke of an effort to suppress a sob. "The first thing you think- You… _Damnit!"_

The machine shoved her face into Trunks' shoulder, shuddering. Her arms, Bulma noticed then, were cut and torn and dirty, like she'd been in a fight for her life. Her clothing was in tatters, too.

Right now, she looked nothing like the mass murderer that was featured so often on the news in the past. Nothing like a cold, unfeeling machine.

She looked… She looked vulnerable in a way that Bulma had never thought to associate with her.

She looked _human_.

'_This… This can't be faked,' _her mind realized, slowly. _'Does she actually… care for Trunks?'_

It was an alien thought but a thought that solidified itself in her mind as she watched this android attempt to center herself in her son's embrace. A thought that anchored itself in her head as she watched Trunks' eyes scrunch up as his mouth neared the android's ear, whispering words that Bulma's own ears could not catch.

'_She cares?'_

Suddenly, the machine wasn't so much of a machine anymore. She was… she was something else. Not a friend, certainly not, because the past 18 years of her life could not be so easily forgotten. But the blonde was no longer an enemy, not in Bulma's mind.

Maybe… just maybe, she could give this android a chance.

Because it would be nice for Trunks to have someone at his back, again.

And already, the android covered his back brilliantly, because Bulma knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her son would be dead if not for the machine.

'_If not for 18,' _her mind riposted.

And she nodded, wiping her eyes one last time.

Then, she got to her feet and went upstairs.

Because Trunks was right, 18 needed a sensu bean.

* * *

**A/N: **So… all of that happened. Some face sucking, some beat downs (of which Trunks and 18 ended up on the wrong side) and some heartfelt moments near the end as, you know, Trunks lay nearly dead then not dead, because beans.

And also, Perfect Cell, cause why not? That bastard was bound to find Android 13 eventually.

Busy chapter, huh?

But on the bright side, we have new power rankings to do!

**Trunks**

Base Power: 3

Super Saiyan: 6

Super Saiyan 2nd Grade: 8

Super Saiyan 3rd Grade: 10

**Android 17:**

Base Power: 5

**A****ndroid 18:**

Base Power: 5

**Perfect Cell:**

Base Power: 15

(Edit: Guest pointed out that Cell's power level seemed high, which is true. He was originally at 20, but he should have only been at 15. It's corrected now!)

Poor Trunks. All that work in the past, all the struggling and fighting and training and then some game-breaking android swings by with a power up mechanic that outstrips him. Almost sounds like… a… Super Saiyan… huh.

Walp, guess Cell just does it better!

In all seriousness, I'm excited to see this arc start in earnest. Lots of character growth in the next few chapters. 18 and Trunks explore their burgeoning relationship and do some – a lot of – training. Strength will be gained, respect will be earned, fun times will be had by all!

In my world, I'm going to see Patton Oswalt tonight and can't wait for it. He's been on my radar even since I heard his bugged-my-car skit. Should be a blast!

Now, onto the reviews!

**Arkraith: **It's good to find another RWBY fan here! I'm glad you enjoyed Reiteration and sorry I didn't finish it, after season 2 my interest waned in the show and the fanfic sort of followed that trend. This one is a different story (literally, hah, I think I'm funny) in that I've been a fan of Future Trunks since I was kid. I've always wanted to do his character justice, since the stuff he went through in his life seemed more deserving of just a back-up character. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

**RaijinWolf: **Fair. The Naruto and Bleach fics were written when I was a different person, a child, really. Reiteration is the only one I haven't been able to finish in my adult life. But yeah, fair. I'm glad you enjoyed my writing nonetheless and, if you ever see this, I'm sorry I let you down!

**Fanfictions4ever: **I could do a decimal thing… I think I'm going to avoid delving that deep though. The numbers will only be incredibly close to one another early in the story. As more power is gained the numbers spread apart. Plus, without decimals, I think equal power levels explains that a fight really could go either way between them better. I'm glad you're enjoying the story and, further, that you like the Trunksx18 pairings – me too! Thanks for your words!

To my other reviewers, thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts with me! The little ping I get on my phone during the day makes work go by much, much faster (because I can only stare at legacy code for so long before I start pulling my hair out)

Till next time,

Phailen


	5. Chapter 5

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

* * *

_Trunks_

His knuckles were white with pressure, his breath came in short gasps. In his hands were bags, bags that, just yesterday, he and 18 were using for their towels, swimsuits and other items they were going to bring along for a day of fun at the water park. Now, he was cramming food, extra clothing and anything else he could think to bring into them. Water, daily hygiene supplies, anything and everything they needed to survive.

For he, Mother and 18 were going to run.

Into space, aboard the Capsule Corps spaceship – a vehicle modeled after the one that was used to travel to Namek nearly two decades ago. Unused, unnecessary, until now, but Cell changed all of that.

That Android 18 was joining them, this time, was an irony that did not escape him.

In fact, he held onto that idea as tightly as he was carrying the pack in his hands, for it was the only thing keeping other thoughts at bay. Darker thoughts, depressing thoughts. Thoughts that poked and prodded at his mind, nagging and unceasing. Difficult to banish, nearly impossible to ignore.

Failure. _Again._

Weakness. _Again._

Helplessness. _Again._

He was tired of it. Tired of this. His entire life was spent running away, after all. Running was the only thing he truly knew he was good at doing. His strength, monumental though it was, always, always, always failed him in the end.

But running?

Trunks knewhow to run, at least.

'_Will I ever be strong enough?'_

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, but the damage was done. A frustrated snarl appeared on his face and his teeth themselves bared for the briefest of moments.

Because of course he would. Of course he would be strong enough to banish Earth's latest villain.

Perfect Cell.

Unlike the android twins, that monster was not content to leave Trunks be until he could serve as an entertaining distraction. No, the bio-android was making headlines across the country because it was heading toward West City.

Toward Capsule Corps.

Toward Trunks and 18.

Thus, they had to run. And the only place they could escape Cell was space.

A growl tore free of his throat as he sealed up the pack and shouldered it. 18's was next to his, on his back as well, also stuffed full of anything and everything he could think to grab. He then flew downstairs, into the living room and out the front door.

The warm light of the setting sun greeted him from beyond the skyline of a city only just recovering from being terrorized for nearly two decades. Newly replaced glass storefronts, fresh paint on repaved roads, people of all ages enjoying their lives in one of the many Remembrance Parks dotting the city's lands.

Now, they would know a new reign of terror.

He did not know what kind of villain Perfect Cell would be, but Trunks was certain he would be a villain.

A shake of his head and a breath expelled from his nose shook him from his thoughts. He instead focused his eyes on the sight in front of him: the Capsule Corps space ship. The spherical space vehicle was already humming, its engines firing in earnest for the very first time since its creation. Mother was inside of it, prepping for their escape from Earth, he knew.

18 appeared behind him, then, a large duffle bag slung over her shoulder and a backpack on her back. She straightened that Chinese dress she favored so much and smoothed out the black leggings she wore over her lower half. On her feet were a simple pair of running shoes.

Trunks himself was in a short-sleeved, black compression shirt – the first thing he grabbed from his dresser drawers – and a pair of navy blue pants. On his feet, he had his second – and last – pair of burnt yellow boots.

"Let's go," 18 said, flying up to the space ship's door, above which "CAPSULE3" was emblazoned in bold lettering. He followed her even as she continued: "Cell is only about ten minutes away, now. And that was from the latest newscast."

"So it's probably only five out," he growled, quicker and sharper than he really meant to. Combined with his doubts, the monster's name spoken aloud brought with it flashes of his fight. Of pain, of burning energy and broken bones. Of a struggle as mentally rigorous as it was physical.

"Probably. No time to waste," the blonde herself murmured, crossing the threshold and entering the space ship fully.

She stopped just inside the vehicle, though, and he nearly ran into her when he landed behind her. The blonde's eyes were darting around the upper level of the ship, furnished with a few couches and even a small kitchenette area. She flinched, visibly, when she spied the door leading downstairs.

Downstairs to the gravity chamber.

Trunks scowled and slapped the panel next to the door. The metal opening closed with a sharp _click, _sealing them inside the spacefaring craft.

18 quivered.

He dropped the bags on the floor and turned to study her.

The fearful woman in front of him was… She was nothing like the fearless one in his memories.

Maybe they both had their demons.

"Mother!" He called, his erratic thoughts calming as an idea came to him. "We're ready! Let's go!"

"Right!" She called back from where she sat in the control chair across the room. Beyond her, Trunks could see Earth's bright, orange-stained sky through the short, wide window panels. And the very same skyline he was admiring just moments ago. The city that would meet its newest tyrant in mere minutes.

His lips pulled back into a snarl that felt unnatural on his face. Like it did not belong. And certainly, it did not. His father snarled and growled and threatened. But his mother taught him to smile and laugh and love.

She taught him to find the light in the darkness, for darkness was all they knew.

And that light… His light. It was the woman in front of him. She was his hope for the future, not only because of the way he felt about her, but because she could fight with him.

If 18 feared he and that gravity room, if she feared having her strength taken from her… Then he would make her strong.

As strong as him.

And if 18 was strong, then his strength would never fail the Earth again. Not while they both lived and breathed to defend it.

The android would not want to defend humanity as a whole, this Trunks knew well from spending day after day with her over the past several months.

But what she _would _want…

What he felt she _would _do...

18 would help him overcome his fear. She would understand how being powerless felt. She would understand that he could not fail the people of Earth.

And she would help.

There was no room for doubt in his mind, not any longer. Only hope remained now. Hope he learned during a childhood spent living in fear. Hope he clung to with every bit of his strength, lacking though it may be.

Hope.

His very own light in the darkness, in the form of one of his former-tormentors, no less.

Oh, but the universe _did _have a sense of humor.

He expelled a breath from his nose as purpose flooded his mind. The very same purpose, the same resolve he learned in the past. His power stirred at the disturbance, eager and familiar as it lay deep within him, but he pushed it back down. Now was not the time.

'_Not the time indeed,' _he thought, only the slightest bit angry, now. He and 18 would not be able to return to Earth until they could beat Cell. One way was if he reached the level of an Ascended Super Saiyan. A Super Saiyan Two. The other was if they could both become strong enough individually to match that monster's power. Either way, they would need to remain in orbit for the time being. If Cell could hunt them down there, then they would simply fly further away from the planet until the monster could not follow them. Its energy was massive enough that sensing its approach would be a simple matter.

The spaceship's hum turned into a roar as its engines fired beneath it and Trunks reached out with arm to steady himself against the wall of the vehicle. 18, who had still yet to tear her gaze away from the doorway leading downstairs, stumbled.

"Careful," he murmured, supporting her with an arm on her back.

She released a slow breath and screwed her eyes shut, grimacing. The android took perhaps ten seconds to center herself like that, then straightened and stood under her own power even as orange skies faded and gave way to the clouds in the viewport.

"I kept having to raise the gravity, you know," he said quietly, glancing at the door leading downstairs himself.

The blonde turned to face him, her expression neutral.

So, he continued: "I started it at sixty times Earth's gravity. Then seventy, then eighty… By the time you, uh, got out of there, the machine was putting out one-hundred and twenty times Earth's gravity."

"How much can you stand?"

"Me?" Trunks swallowed, even as metal shutters covered the windows across the room, a necessity for their escape from Earth's atmospheric pressure. "I don't really have an exact number that-"

"Trunks," the blonde said, scowling now. "I'm not some delicate flower. Tell me how much you can stand."

The saiyan exhaled through his nose, annoyed at himself for trying to coddle 18 so soon after he resolved to help her grow strong and at her for being so… so abrasive.

He really should have expected it, by now.

"Two-hundred and sixty times Earth's gravity."

She looked away from him, toward the door leading downstairs. The panels covering the windows began to lift then, offering them the sight of the utter blackness of space, dotted by brilliant specks of light. In the ship's viewport, the curvature of the Earth loomed, massive and blue and awe-inspiring in its beauty.

"Then I have a goal," 18 said at length, drawing his attention away from the windows. She made eye contact with him and kept it, unblinking, her chin tilted upwards. "We're going to push my limits, _hard_. I'm not going to hold you back. Not for long."

And, amidst all the doubts and the fears and the self-loathing, Trunks felt elation rise up within him.

His lips twitched and a grin began pushing back his scowl.

He forgot what it felt like, to have someone fight _with _him.

"Yeah," he agreed, matching her stare. "I won't settle for anything less than equal footing, 18. You and me… we're gonna beat that monster."

Her lips twitched and her eyes scrunched as a smile – a real, full blown, toothy smile, developed on her face.

And he… Trunks found it beautiful. _She _was beautiful. In her compression shirt, odd dress and leggings, standing there with her arms crossed, the musculature present in the limbs emphasized by the pose. The delicate curve of her figure, the way her leggings hugged _everything_, the high cheekbones, the soft smile, the teeth on full display.

She was… _damn_. She was something.

"Eyes up, Saint Saiyan," 18 murmured, her smile morphing into that half-smirk. "There'll plenty to time to stare later, when your mother isn't-"

"Trunks!" The blue haired woman, as if she knew she was just mentioned, called from across the room.

"Coming!" He said, offering the blonde a shrug and dropping the bags next to one of the couches in the room. The interior of the spaceship was spartan in nature, minimalistic by necessity. The stark white tiling and lack of any personalizing touch made it feel all too much like a hospital to him.

Regardless of his opinion on it, he paced across the upper level of the deck, over to where Mother was standing at the forward viewport. The wide, short window stretched across most of the ship, broken in spots only where solid-looking support beams were present. The pilot's interface itself was only a body length away from the window.

Odd that she was not in the chair – he thought the lift-off procedure was fairly demanding of the ship's human inhabitants. That said, his knowledge was based upon word of mouth only, so it might just all be automated for all he knew.

"Yes, mother?" He murmured, coming to a stop next to her in front of the thick glass. "You- Oh."

The Earth, in front of him, big and blue and green and dotted with white, fluffy clouds and just… _beautiful_ stretched out before him.

And in the center of it all, standing out against the colors arrayed before his eyes, was a big, bright, fiery red spot.

An open wound.

Right where West City-

"Oh…" He murmured again, even as Mother lowered her head and rested her blue locks against the glass.

His mind, it seemed, was sluggish. He knew that the big red splotch of color meant fire and devastation. Burning buildings and sundered ground and destruction. But was hard, so very hard, to tie that to West City from all the way up in space.

It looked so small, from here, that red, fiery scar.

"Is… that…" 18's voice muttered at his side.

He jumped.

She continued, content to ignore him: "That's West City… isn't it?"

Trunks nodded even as Mother breathed out sharply through her nose.

"Huh," the android scoffed, crossing her arms. "What a way to ruin a good playground."

A breathless gasp left him, surprised yet at the same time unsurprised by the blonde's callous disregard for all the lives just lost below them. People with families. Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. All them… All of them.

His jaw clenched the longer he thought about it – easy as it was to distance himself from the destruction up here, thoughts of the people who doubtlessly perished removed that buffer space gave him entirely.

"That's-" He swallowed. "Those people, 18, _all _of them. They're…"

"Dead," she agreed, chewing on her bottom lip. "Do you think the water park survived?"

"The water- The _people_, 18! They- Why am I even trying?" He growled, baring his teeth even as he turned away from her.

Back to the angry red wound, so tiny and insignificant, yet so massive and horrific.

"Julie is- _was _down there, android," Mother murmured from his other side, lifting her head up and away from the glass panes in front of her. Tears ran freely down her face – she made no move to wipe them away.

18 stilled on his other side, as though that realization hadn't occurred to her.

And, as self-absorbed as the blonde was, that was probably accurate.

"She- That doesn't reach…" The android trailed off into silence, placing a single hand on the glass in front of her. Slowly, her lips were curling back into a sneer. "It- It's fine. Julie's…"

Her fingers clenched and she turned to him, hair whipping wildly about her face.

"Trunks. Julie isn't dead, right? She's too strong to be- She wouldn't just… just _die_…"

And, as if saying the word made it real, the blonde android's lip quivered.

But it was real. It was all real. Hard as it was to imagine, hard as it was to accept, West City was gone.

_Gone_.

An entire city… _His _city.

"Goddamnit," he whispered, his voice cracking. The weight of responsibility on his shoulders never felt heavier. The cost of the lives lost never seemed so high. His lack of strength, never so punishing.

"She's fine," 18 insisted, grabbing the cloth of his shirt with both of her fists. "Julie wouldn't die, not like that, she's too tough! Too… Too strong!"

He shook his head, his breathing uneven. "Just… look at it, 18. That's our city. All of it… West City is gone."

The blonde's nostrils flared and her lips curled back in full. "She's not dead! She's fine."

"She's _gone_, 18. All of it. Nothing-"

"She's-" Wild-eyed, the android whirled back to the glass viewport, eyes darting across the fiery expanse. "She's _mine. _Not that monster's! He can't just- He's… The strong protect, Trunks!"

The words hit him like they were physical blows, because _his _strength was what failed West City. _He _failed those people. He failed each and every one of them.

18 sniffed and a half-suppressed sob escaped her.

"All of those people are gone," Mother said, so quietly he nearly missed it. Her voice was nearly lost amidst the gentle hum of the spaceship's engines, idling as they were above the planet's atmosphere. "All of them. And each of them had people who cared about them."

The blue haired woman stepped up, even with his shoulder, and continued, staring at the side of 18's face even as the blonde watched the red wound below.

"Take what you're feeling right now and multiply it a million times over, android. _That's _what that big crater means down there. But don't worry, your water park is probably fine."

The blonde's attention snapped onto his mother in an instant and, in the next moment, she surged forward, hands outstretched. A ragged scream escaped the woman even as the first hint of tears appeared in her eyes.

But Trunks placed himself between the two women, grabbing 18 in a bear hug.

"Fuck you," the android spat, scrabbling at his back, his clothing, his arms, anything she could reach to try and get to Mother. "Fuck you, weakling!"

"Maybe, just maybe, you understand what you did to us-"

"They were weak! They should've-"

"Been stronger? Yeah," the blue haired woman agreed. "_You _should've been stronger too!"

Trunks swallowed, arms held steadfastly around the struggling android, even as his spirit withered. The words, he knew, were meant for 18, but they applied to him too.

"Mother," he muttered, casting a glance over his shoulder. His eyes met hers' and, immediately, the blue haired woman's mouth dropped open.

She gasped. "Oh! Sweetheart, I didn't mean… I-"

"Maybe-" He shook his head, tightening his grip around the android in his arms. "Maybe you should see to the ship, Mother."

"I- Yeah, yeah… maybe tempers need to settle and…" She looked down at the ground, hands fussing with each other. "I'm sorry, Trunks-dear."

He shook his head again, turning back to 18. The blonde was largely still, now, hands fisted into his shirt in earnest. Her face – which was wet, he could feel that clearly – was pressed into his shoulder.

A sigh escaped him as he heard Mother pace back toward the pilot interface.

Far from mad, now, he realized he was just incredibly weary. So close he was to a life devoid of terror. So close that only one being had stood between him and freedom. And, when it came time to fight that being, he fell short when the Earth needed him most.

It happened so often that it was like an overused joke, now. The android twins first, then Cell in the past and now Cell in the present.

18 sniffled loudly against his shirt and her shoulders shook, a low moan escaping her.

The ship lurched beneath his feet and he heard the engines hum louder. The Earth began to get smaller in the viewport.

He glanced one last time at West City and-

And blinked.

For he was certain the fiery, red wound did not extend to the ocean when he last looked at it.

Curious, more than anything now, he rubbed at his eyes and looked again. But still, the bleeding crater upon the surface of the Earth reached the deep blue of the ocean. As a matter of fact, Trunks was quite certain it did not reach the mountainous region north of the city either. Yet now, it did that too.

Which meant…

The wound was growing.

Dread touched his mind, lightly, with nothing more than a caress, even as 18 began to calm in his arms. He released her, _mostly _sure she would not attack Mother, and turned to the window fully.

His eyes tracked the red expanse of molten, destroyed rock and fiery devastation even as it expanded, like a disease across the countryside near his city. Green plains were swallowed up on one side and blue ocean was invaded on the other. Quickly, he realized, it was indeed growing.

Consuming everything in its wake.

But that was wrong.

A pressure began to build within him, deep within him.

It was all so terribly, terribly wrong. The Earth did not burn like that, it did not burn at all. It was supposed to be green and blue and brown and white and… And not _this_. Not this at all. This was wrong.

Above the wound, the ground cracked open and gave way to more redness, more fiery devastation. Two wounds, now, like it was expanded faster, more-

He gasped. His knees felt weak and he wanted to vomit, yet he could not look away.

Another crack in the pristine green fields near the city appeared, spider-webbing across the surface of the planet to join with the rest of the fire. Black smog began to form in earnest, pushing away the fluffy, white clouds.

And, as he watched, helpless, the Earth died.

His insides felt hot. His heart was pounding and his breath came to him in short gasps.

"No," he breathed. "No…"

This could not be happening. This… This was impossible.

Another molten red crack in the planet appeared, this time far to the south.

The wound expanded further.

More green gave way to red.

The ground bled and the ocean vanished in its wake.

Moisture gathered in his eyes and his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw began to ache. His fingers curled themselves into fists.

Anger touched his mind amidst all the despair.

Because how _dare _that thing?! This was _his _planet. His world. His people. His. His! The Earth was the only home he ever knew and he loved it with his entire being. He sacrificed everything for it, he bled for it, suffered for it, cried for it. Everything!

This asshole didn't just get to take that away!

His fist smashed into the glass of the window, prompting Mother to shout something at him.

He did not care.

Not while watched the Earth bleed.

The wound was large, now, covering at least a quarter of the planet in front of him. It spider-webbed across land and ocean both, murdering and destroying everything, leaving only black smog and burnt ground in its wake.

Someone grabbed his arm when he went to punch the window again – 18, for Mother could not hold him back.

The pressure within him built further and, this time, he gave into it. His ki roared and he released a shout with it as the power of a Super Saiyan flooded his veins. The white tile beneath his feet cracked and the arms wrapped around his limb disappeared.

But the gesture was futile. His purpose, ignored.

The Earth still died in front of his eyes.

One large crack opened up in the middle of the big, blue ocean, bright red and _wrong_. It split the planet down the middle, rapidly widening even as water vanished into its unforgiving embrace. The gaping red wound covering West City lanced toward the new open scar, as though it knew its brethren, reaching fingers of fire and death out across the ocean until they joined together in a macabre show of ruin.

And he could do _nothing_.

He roared again, throwing his head back even as tears spilled from his eyes. He knew what this was. He knew what was happening.

The Earth was being destroyed.

* * *

_Android 18_

"18!" The weakling hollered over Saint's shouting. She was currently cowering behind the metal box that guided the ship, a bloody red gash on her arm the evidence of her only attempt to subdue her son.

Because Saint Saiyan _did _need to be subdued. He was going to wreck the ship if he was not.

"Android! Take him to the gravity chamber! The walls are reinforced!"

A spear made of bright, deadly lightning lanced toward her at that moment and she only just got her arm up in time. Skin burned and a new scar appeared on her forearm, but she stumbled toward Saint Saiyan nonetheless.

Because if he destroyed their space ship, they all got to die.

No air and all that.

18 bit back a gasp as another line of lightning seared the flesh of her leg. Another impacted the ground, burning the metal tiles and still another cratered the weaker, plastic ceiling tiles. Meanwhile, the bastard's power grew increasingly oppressive, a heavy weight upon her shoulders that cracked tile beneath her feet and threatened to break open the glass windows beyond the obnoxious yellow-haired fool himself.

"Damnit, Trunks," she hissed, gritting her teeth against the fresh pain another uncontrolled bolt of lightning caused her.

She reached him at long last and her fingers closed around one of his arms. The blonde threw the limb over her shoulder and half-flew, half-ran toward the doorway that led to the gravity chamber.

Her former prison, a place she promised herself she would never see again.

Together, they cleared the doorway even as Saint Saiyan's power tore part of the frame away entirely, whipping it across the interior of the ship and drawing a frightened shout from the weakling. Lightning was searing everything in sight, too, more obnoxious even than in that elevated Super Saiyan state.

And the fool was yelling, still, too. Right in her ear.

Loudly.

"Shut up Saint," she hissed, dragging his heavier frame down the staircase with all the grace of a toddler. They stumbled into one of the outer walls half way down and the thing nearly collapsed under their weight and the force of his power. Ahead of her, she could see the landing outside the gravity chamber's door. The bathroom she used so often during her captivity was down there, as well.

But then, the ship _lurched._

Lights dimmed and metal creaked and groaned. The humming of the engines became a _shriek _and she heard glass break behind her. The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut and she finally lost her fight to start on her feet.

She and Trunks fell down the rest of the stairs and it was only with a desperate application of her ki that she managed to turn it into something resembling flight. The landing rushed up to meet her as the ship _lurched _again, though not as violently this time.

The second wave still managed to send her sprawling through the doorway of the gravity chamber, Saint Saiyan – still screaming his head off – thrown in behind her. He did not seem to care that he was just tossed about like a rag doll, though, content to continue putting off waves of intense-

He began glowing a bright, bright white.

18 squinted, even as the lighting in the room turned red and the door to the gravity chamber slammed shut following a loud _crack _from outside.

All the while, Saint Saiyan glowed brighter and brighter, kneeling in the middle of the room as he was. The lightning sparking and lashing about his form grew even more intense and she scuttled backward, along the ground, to get away from him.

His shouting reached a voice-breaking crescendo and the smell of ozone assaulted her nose.

Then, a wave of power rushed toward her, visible and golden and potent. Strong enough to put her back on her ass, she threw her arms up in front of her face, remembering the destruction brought about the last time Trunks tried something like this.

But no explosion following the wave of power.

In fact, Saint Saiyan wasn't even shouting anymore.

Hesitantly, 18 lowered the arms in front of her eyes.

Bulging muscles, larger than they normally were. Bright yellow hair, longer and – somehow – even more pointy. Lightning crackling about his ki, though not searing his surroundings any longer.

And the _power_.

Her mouth dropped open when she sensed it. When she opened herself up to Saint Saiyan's strength.

It was _incredible_.

Trunks was strong before but this… this was nothing short of amazing.

"Wow," she murmured, absentmindedly staring over his shoulder as she immersed herself in the feeling of his ki. Familiar, still, but so much stronger than it was before. Comforting, still, but with an edge to it that told her not to mess with him. "Is this…?"

"The Ascended Super Saiyan," Trunks muttered, scowling as he stared at his clenching fingers. He was content to remain slouched on the ground. "If only I weren't too _late_."

* * *

_Android 18 – two weeks later_

She stomped up the newly repaired stairs to the upper level of the space ship harder than was necessary, frustrated and bitter all at once. Her clothing sported minor tears – as was the norm when she and Trunks trained – and her skin was made dirty with sweat, blood and bruises. She probably smelled awful but without a shower on the ship, that was a given. One could only go so far with a washcloth, water and hand soap, after all.

The blonde stepped fully into the top level of the ship to find Saint's mother inspecting the damage to the glass viewport. The metal shielding was still in front of it, lest they let all of their air escape into space.

And judging by the size of the crack that stretched across a good portion of the window, the plating would likely remain for quite some time.

She walked briskly toward the kitchenette, ignoring the human as she straightened, and busied her hands with preparing a cup of tea.

One of the few things 18 knew how to make using human appliances.

Silence broken only by the clattering metal appliances enveloped her. A silence that was further broken when the android heard the weakling approach from behind her.

"Trunks is still training down there, I take it?"

The blonde grunted, filling the kettle with water from the sink. Once it was nearly full, she put it on the stove and turned the dial up to make it boil.

The human came to stand beside her, her eyes flitting between 18's face and the windows in the distance.

"The damage to the spaceship is contained…" The weakling said. "That leaves me with free time on my hands, so, I figured… if I could help you somehow-"

"You've helped me enough, human," 18 muttered, arms crossed. She watched the kettle steadily even as the blue haired woman rubbed the back of her neck.

It was a gesture familiar to her, mainly because Trunks did it all the time.

Like mother, like son, she supposed.

"Right," the weakling murmured. "That was- Well, the chip, it… Look, I know you're not as strong as-"

18 growled, turning her head and locking her narrowed eyes on the woman.

The human swallowed. "Uhm, as strong as Trunks… but I think I can help."

A smirk tugged at her lips even as the kettle began to whistle quietly. "What can _you _do to help me, weakling?"

"Obviously I can't train with you," the human said, frowning as she turned to face 18 fully. "But I _can_ make things for you to use, you know, since you're an android."

The blonde grunted, dismissive, and turned back to the kettle. The weakling was getting used to her, standing up to her like that. Whatever. She was useful because neither Trunks nor the android herself knew how to work the spaceship.

And they needed to get to New Namek, where those Dragon Ball things would apparently let them wish back the Earth and the people on it. And, mostly importantly, it would draw that bastard Cell in from wherever it slunk off to after he murdered everyone on 18's playground.

"Look, I know you don't like me. I know you think I'm weak and I _am_ but-"

"It's good you know your place," 18 muttered, taking the kettle off the stove as her water finished boiling. She wasted no time in pouring some of it out over the tea bag she set in her cup.

The weakling grunted, scowling.

Cute.

"My _place_ is helping Trunks… and _you_… beat Cell, 18. I'm trying to do that, if you would just listen to me!"

"I am listening," the blonde said, fingers busy with picking up her tea cup and bringing it over to one of the couches. It would be some time before Trunks finished training in the gravity room so she had time to kill before she could use it again herself.

"You're not-" The weakling growled, frustrated. "_Look_, I think I can come up with a way for you to use Trunks' ki yourself!"

_That_ was interesting.

Saint Saiyan's ki was stronger than hers. It allowed him to withstand a much larger amount of gravity in the room downstairs than her. It made him faster, stronger, more resilient than her.

But it was also _his_. His and his alone. Just like she had her own ki, so too did Trunks… there was no way to share it. Not that she knew of. And if she did not know of a way to do that, then…

"Do you have any idea what you're talking about, human?"

The blue haired woman shook her head, walking over to place herself upon a chair opposite 18's couch.

"I may not be strong, but I am one of the smartest people on… I'm a _damn _fine scientist, android. If I say I can modify your body to use my son's ki, then believe me, I _can_."

The blonde blew on the liquid in her cup to cool it for she could not drink it right away, a lesson she learned after only one mishap. From over the cup, her eyes regarded the human idly.

Maybe she had a point.

Saint Saiyan's mother, while as weak as every other human, _was _smart.

"Alright, I'm listening."

A scowl worked its way onto the blue haired woman's lips and she narrowed her eyes for a moment. But then, with a heavy exhalation of breath, the frustrated look left her face and a neutral façade took its place.

"Trunks told me about androids that could absorb energy through their hands when he went to the past. He never saw it personally, but apparently it allowed an 'Android 19' to utilize ki that was not its own."

18 hummed. "Yeah, so? The ki that android absorbed strengthened its own ki. _Its_ ki. Not the ki of whoever it leeched from."

"Right," the human nodded, continuing without pause: "But I've already become familiar enough with _your _ki to know that I can transform it into electricity to power the gravity room. And if I can change your ki to electricity, then…"

"Then… I might be able to change my ki into Trunks'?"

"In a roundabout way, yes," the human said, smirking. "If Trunks can pull ki from that port on your back and make it into his own, then he can tell you how to use _his _ki like it's yours'. Then it's just a matter of adding a pair of energy absorbers to your body."

18 placed her tea cup down on the table in front of her, eyeing the blue haired woman. "That's… a pretty big _if_. If you install those power absorbers on me. If Trunks can turn my ki into his. If I can keep Trunks' ki and use it myself…"

The human shrugged. "Or, you could just keep sulking while my son trains at gravity levels _your ki _can't handle."

A growl ripped itself free from her throat.

Begrudgingly, respect for Trunks' mother started to build in her, because the triumphant grin on the woman's face was as infuriating as it was well-deserved. She had 18, hook, line and sinker.

18 missed the days where the human still jumped at the sight of her.

* * *

_Trunks – The next day_

18 lay on her stomach in the gravity room, a towel underneath her. Her legs kicked idly in the air behind her and her shirt was pulled up to her shoulders. On her back, a thin, vertical rectangle was exposed; it stood out starkly against the healthy flush of her skin due to the fact that it was the slate grey color of metal – flexible metal, given its position, but metal all the same. The panel was about the size of his fist and located halfway between her shoulders and her waist, just to the right of her spine. In its center, a small, circular port was embedded – small enough not to be seen through clothing but oh-so-noticeable now that her back was bare.

"Well?" The blonde murmured, eyeing him over her shoulder. "Are you going to try or not?"

Trunks himself was sitting, cross-legged, at her side. His face was warm.

A fact that 18 was quick to pick up on.

"Performance anxiety," she sighed, her eyes scrunching as she grinned. "It's okay Trunks, you can _touch _me-"

"18," he barked. Though the cracking of his voice midway through the word left it far less intimidating than he wanted.

A fact proven when the blonde android broke out into peals of laughter.

He sighed, smiling despite his embarrassment. He liked hearing 18 laugh. He… he liked a lot of things about her, really. He liked seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, watching her fight… the feel of her lips on his.

It all left him rather conflicted.

Trunks was still very aware that the woman before him was a killer concerned with only herself and the things that made her happy. She was as selfish as selfish could be. Self-absorbed to the point where she was nearly his complete opposite. She fought for herself, lived for herself, loathed anyone that denied her anything and hated humanity with a vehemence only matched by his drive to protect them.

They were like water and oil.

But then, she was also the only one willing to stand and fight with him. A partner in more ways than he could ask for. She was there when he nearly lost himself to fear against Perfect Cell. She was there to get him out of harm's way after his final gambit failed against the monster. She accompanied him, willingly, to go hunt the bio-android down.

She was… _something _to him. A friend? A rival? An ally?

He did not know.

But Trunks knew what he _wanted _her to be.

He wanted her to be _more_.

He wanted to feel her skin beneath his fingers, her lips on his, her body pressed up against his own. He wanted to kiss her like the time in Dr. Gero's lab. He wanted to explore her physically and mentally both, he wanted to know what made her tick, why she thought the way she did and why she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down around him.

Trunks, essentially, wanted a sociopathic killer on-the-mend.

And, especially considering his desire to protect humanity and her hatred of them, that left him feeling incredibly conflicted.

Movement in front of him pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up-

Only to find 18 kneeling in front of him, her shirt still around her shoulders and _barely _dangling low enough to cover up her nipples. The undersides of her breasts peeked out from beneath her cloth, defying gravity to remain pert and-

'_Ohhh hell.'_

Why wasn't she wearing a bra?

Why hadn't he noticed that before?

The blonde put one of her hands on his thigh and the other on his shoulder. She leaned in close and he found himself retreating, his mind still a confusing battlefield between desire and duty.

18 followed him, though, as he fell back onto to the ground. Eventually, he found he could run no further when his back hit the floor panels and she was left to hover over him. Her shirt finally lost its battle to keep her chest contained and now dangled loosely around her neck. Her breasts-

His face flushed.

The blonde laughed, though it was not the tinkling laughter he heard earlier. This one… this one was lower. Huskier.

"Of course I'd have to make the first move," she lamented, shaking her head. "You really do live up to your name, Saint Saiyan."

Trunks swallowed, finally pulling his eyes away from her chest and up to her face. Her eyes were darkened from the dilation of her pupils. Her lips, so close, were puckered.

He licked his lips.

18's eyes narrowed.

And he found he did not care any longer for whatever sense of morality was holding him back. He had spent his entire life putting the people of Earth over himself. All of his childhood, when most kids were making friends and learning in school, was spent training. His adult life was spent in the past, trying to save _another _Earth from chaos.

And now, he wanted to live for _himself_.

Trunks flipped them over, back onto the towel, as 18 was lowering her head to his.

The android's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open for just a moment, before her eyes narrowed all over again. "Ohh," she hummed, trailing off into a breathy sort of sigh that sent blood rushing to his lower half. The fact that she rolled her hips and pressed her groin into his helped too.

That helped _a lot_.

He took one last moment to drink in the sight of her flushed cheeks, hair splayed behind her head on the towel and her hooded eyes. Then, the saiyan lowered his lips to hers and kissed her.

It was nervous and light, at first, then she opened her lips and sighed into his mouth when their chests touched.

And Trunks was lost to his desire, the people of Earth be damned.

He moved his lips against hers and pressed himself fully into her, feeling the hardened points of her nipples through even his compression shirt. She writhed below him and he felt her legs wrap around his waist, the heels of her feet on the base of his spine pressing him ever harder against her blazing hot nethers.

"Shirt," she gasped, pulling away from his lips for a brief moment. Her hands went in search of the hem of his clothing and he let her pull it over his head when she found it. As soon as it was gone, her arms went around his neck and her torso pressed up against his, her breasts pillowing against the firmer musculature there.

"Trunks," she breathed. "Saint Saiyan… not so sai-"

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers in a rough kiss and then by pushing his thighs down onto hers. He groaned when his hardness ended up sandwiched between their bodies and she used the opportunity to bite down on his lower lip, a guttural moan of her own escaping her.

18's hands threaded themselves through his hair and her nails left tingling lines of heat on his scalp. His own settled onto the small of her back and, his muscles coiling, he raised them both up into a sitting position, the blonde android ending up deposited on his lap.

She pulled away from the kiss, her face flushed, before she dove at his neck. Teasing bites and sensuous licks had him tilting his head to give her more access as his hands began to fumble with the waistband of her athletic shorts.

When his fingers slipped beneath the fabric to cup the flesh of her backside, they paused, both at the same time.

She looked up at him, her breath hot on his neck.

He looked down at her, fingers firmly sunken into her skin beneath the fabric of her shorts.

An unspoken question passed between them, then. One last moment of hesitation.

Then, her teeth dug back into his neck and his fingers tightened around her backside.

And they went at each other with renewed vigor.

Her shorts were soon discarded, her shirt following not long after. His own clothing and the rest of hers was lost too, as they explored each other fully.

* * *

_Bulma Briefs – Two days later_

They had sex.

She knew that's what it was. Too many furtive glances tossed between the two. Too many quiet moments shared when they thought she was not looking.

Too long spent 'training' down in the gravity room, without ever actually turning the machine on.

'_Please. I wasn't born yesterday.'_

Her son's love life was his own to have, even if it _was _with a mass-murdering android, and Bulma was trying – really trying – to leave he and 18 be. But it had been nearly three full days since they were made to try and see if Trunks could use 18's ki.

Three full days without a single peep on their progress, or lack thereof.

Bulma had been hard at work during those three days trying to design ki absorbers for 18 with what material she had on the ship. That was going well, she would probably even have a prototype ready for testing in the next few days, but without knowing if ki could be exchanged between Trunks and 18…

She sighed.

'_They're more concerned with exchanging bodily fluids, right now.'_

Thoughts of her son's sex life were quickly forced from her head, for that was a road she did not want to walk.

What Bulma _did _want, however, was answers. Namely, if Trunks could use 18's ki, because if he couldn't then the ki absorbers she was developing would be nearly useless.

A scowl firmly in place on her lips, the blue haired woman set down her work on the table in front of her and, resolute, stomped over to the stairs.

'_Time to refocus the kids' energy on something useful!'_

* * *

_Android 18_

Trunks sat on her towel, legs bent upwards at the knee, and she sat between them, her own legs also bent at the knee and resting on either side of his waist. The saiyan's hands were on her back, her naked back, for she'd shed her shirt after their most recent tumble.

"Feel anything?" She murmured into the skin of his shoulder, where her forehead rested. The warm afterglow of being left satisfied was pleasantly shrouding her mind in a fog, making thoughts beyond Saint Saiyan's smell and the feel of his skin difficult to focus upon.

"No," he muttered in return, the rumbling of his throat combined with the huskier notes of his voice left her smiling. His hands ceased their idle poking and prodding at the port on her back, instead falling to rest on either side of her waist.

She liked them there better. His fingers were warm and his larger hands felt good on her skin.

18 dragged her own hands up from her thighs to his back, allowing her fingernails to trace little lines over his shoulder blades. The gooseflesh left in the wake of her digits only made her smile widen.

"Then maybe we should try to get… closer again," she muttered, pulling her head away from his shoulder so that she could look up into his eyes.

They were dark and utterly fixated on her beyond a shadow-

"Trunks!"

And then those dark eyes widened as Saint Saiyan gasped, pulling away from her. She locked her ankles behind his waist but the man stood up anyway, doing away with her attempts to keep him in place without even casting a glance in her direction. Quickly, he began pulling on pants over his boxer-briefs.

18 rolled her eyes, reclining back down on the towel under her. Her nethers were covered. That was all that mattered anyway.

"M-Mother! What are you- I mean, are we at New Namek already? You said it would take-"

"Another two weeks," the weakling finished, averting her gaze to some far corner of the room, her cheeks dusted a light red color. "And it's still going to take another two weeks. What _isn't _is your answer!"

Evidently confident enough to look their way now – Trunks _was _clothed in his pants and a simple shirt– the weakling turned to glare at her son.

18 was well aware of the fact that she avoided looking at her the entire time. At least she could make _one _person on this ship nervous still. Saint Saiyan was growing frustratingly used to her behavior now, she could scarcely make him blush any longer.

Of course, that Trunks was able to banter with her opened up a whole new set of possibilities, most of which ended with the two of them in a sweaty, satiated heap on the floor.

"My answer?"

Her… lover? Boyfriend? Captor? Rival? Yeah, all of those things. He looked flustered and she felt no small amount of resentment for the weakling then.

A scowl appeared on her lips as the blue haired human responded:

"Can you use 18's ki or not?"

"Oh!" His eyes widened as he stuffed his feet into his boots. "No… No, we haven't been able to, ahh, figure that out yet."

Bored, now, and thoroughly put out over a lost chance for a rut with Saint Saiyan, 18 sighed and sat up. Idly, she cast an eye about for her clothing – the shirt was at her feet, her pants were only a little further away… but her bra…

"Can you just… put on a shirt?" The weakling said, having averted her gaze once more. "And pants?"

Ah! Somehow the other half of her underwear had ended up hanging off one of the mounted turrets on the walls of the gravity room. 18 climbed to her feet and floated up to the armament, donning the garment once it was no longer serving as a necklace for the thing. That done, she wheeled back around and flew back down to the towel.

Saint Saiyan was watching her, a hooded look about his eyes that made her even more frustrated with the weakling.

"Trunks," said weakling, barked, pulling his attention from her and toward the blue haired woman.

"Ki. Today. Get it done."

And then, she was gone, having stomped back up the stairs to the upper levels of the space ship.

18 sighed, already reaching toward the straps of her bra as her feet touched down on the cold metal of the gravity room's floor.

"Now that she's gone-"

"We need to get this done," Trunks sighed, shaking his head.

She paused, her bra loose about her shoulders. "You better be talking about _me_."

"Wha- The ki, 18," he continued, either ignoring or not seeing her deepening scowl.

"We _are _doing that, Trunks."

"Yes," the saiyan agreed, eyeing her as she fastened her bra again and donned her shirt. "But we weren't really trying. We were… uh, distracted…"

18 hummed, pulling on her stretchy pants. "So, no sex until we figure out this ki thing?"

Trunks' face reddened, but he nodded.

He even managed to look somewhat resolute while he did.

* * *

_Android 18 – Four days later_

Her palm itched and her arm ached. Ached like it did when she was stuck in the gravity chamber, during those dark times, though she and Saint Saiyan were quickly replacing those nightmarish memories with better, more pleasant ones.

"There," the weakling said, placing her hands on her hips and stepping away. "All done."

18 grunted something illegible in response and held up her right hand for inspection. In the center of her palm lay an innocent little hole, ringed by a band of metal. That little opening led to a… _cord _which eventually made it back to her power source in the middle of her torso.

That said cord was in her flesh – she had a thin scar to prove it on the underside of her arm – should have been more troubling to her than it was.

But Gero, the asshole, had already seen to it she lost what sense of humanity she had a long, long time ago. He made her into an android, part machine, and treated her like an object. No, what sense of humanity 18 had was long gone. Now, she was an android, a fusion of flesh and metal. And if more metal could make her stronger then she would accept it willingly.

"Want to test it out?" Saint Saiyan asked, staring at the little hole just as she was. He was standing at her side, their shoulders just barely touching.

She liked the contact.

"May as well," 18 vocalized, nodding as her hand fell back down to her waist. She turned to face Trunks, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Ready to lose your advantage, Saint?"

He grinned back at her, a toothy thing that forced a smile to her face, and barked a short, sharp laugh. "As if, 18. My power has a mind of its own… I'm looking forward to seeing you try to control it."

Her eyes narrowed. "Please. If _you _can do it, how hard can it be?"

"Children," the human chided, looking at her son. "Go on, Trunks."

Boyish grin still on his face, Saint Saiyan stepped back and brought his arms up in front of him. His fingers curled into fists and his muscles bulged and flexed in… wonderful ways.

But it was his eyes that captured her attention the most, as they always did when he transformed.

Intent flooded his gaze in the form of a furrowed brow and widened eyes. His pupils dilated, like he was focusing on something she could not see, and grew to be a lighter, brilliant green-blue.

A shout of exertion escaped him and his muscles bulged again, growing larger in a way that was almost grotesque to watch. His hair grew brittle and stood on end, splaying outwards from the top of his head like some sort of peacock's feathers. His aura, already comforting and familiar to her senses, exploded and ballooned in both intensity and weight, until the golden-hued power felt like a physical thing on her shoulders.

But his eyes, again, held her interest. Teal, now, they widened as he shouted, his pupils shrinking down into a fraction of their former size.

For an instant, just one short moment, 18 saw those very same bright, brilliant teal eyes darken. Darken like his blue eyes would when he stared at her. Darken like they would whenever he began speaking about Earth's fate.

Those pupils grew cloudy and intense and… and _deep _like Trunks' would whenever he spoke or thought of something intensely emotional.

18 desperately wanted to know what affected him so about the Super Saiyan transformation. What sort of effect did such awesome power have on him, to make him feel that way? Was it intoxicating, to be so powerful?

She bet it was. To transform so suddenly and so drastically to increase one's power twofold was as awe-inspiring to watch as it was to watch a Super Saiyan fight.

A _proper _Super Saiyan, like Trunks.

Not like those Z-Fighter weaklings.

And 18 wanted that. She wanted that power. She wanted that strength. She wanted to feel what Saint Saiyan felt when he transformed. She wanted to feel that intoxicating rush of power. That feeling she used to have whilst exploring her playground, the feeling of being so completely and utterly _better._

A breath left her that she only just then realized she was holding.

She _wanted _that. Him. His power. Everything.

"18," Saint Saiyan said, watching her with those intense eyes.

She shook her head, maintaining eye contact, marveling at what she saw. Never before she began to train with Trunks did she have a chance to really _see _a Super Saiyan. Not up close and personal like this.

The heavy aura of power, the surety of his gaze, the focus in his eyes, the musculature… This form demanded attention. It was powerful and it knew it. It relished in its strength.

She could see why the Saiyan race was filled with so many powerful warriors.

And she had this one all to herself.

A grin touched her lips as she stepped forward, her right arm outstretched. Those teal eyes watched her like a hawk and a heady feeling ambushed her for but a moment – the idea that Trunks trusted her this much, to give her his power.

But she was used to that elation, that happiness that came from sharing a bond of trust with her lover. She dispelled the feeling quickly, though a smile was left on her face all the same.

"Ready, Saint?" She murmured, splaying her fingers out across the flesh of his shoulder. He was in one of his tank-tops, given he lost his Capsule Corps jackets in the fight with Cell, tanks and a few tee-shirts were all he had left to wear.

He nodded, once, and that was that.

18 turned her head toward the weakling. "How do I-"

A tingling sensation appeared under the palm of her hand, like it was asleep and waking up. Pins-and-needles.

"Oh," she murmured, staring off into the distance, over Saint Saiyan's shoulder.

"I don't feel any drain," he murmured, extending his over right arm to touch the thin strip of metal on her back, underneath her shirt.

But 18 did feel a pull at her ki.

Amidst the heat of his palm on the skin of her back, she felt the disconcerting feeling of her energy leaving her in a torrent of power. Escaping her body without purpose nor guidance from herself. It brought back memories of times less enjoyable, of a constant draining feeling forced upon her by the cords powering her prison.

That was probably why it felt so uncomfortable to her, actually.

A sharp, biting pain brought her back to reality and she realized her hand was beginning to become uncomfortably hot. She could feel, queer as it was, the feeling of foreign ki within her. It was powerful. It was heavy and left a trail of heat running up her right arm in its wake.

And then it came into contact with her power source, the battery that kept her alive, at her core and…

And vanished.

Vanished into her own power. She could feel that much, that golden energy was giving her an influx of ki that she could have used to power one of the strongest attacks she would ever fire.

But it would be _her _ki powering the attack. Not his. Empowered though her energy may be, that was not the goal of this exercise. She wanted to use _his _ki, not her own.

Thus, the question became how she could keep it from transforming into her own when it met her core.

"What's happening?" The human intoned from her place several feet away. A camera was setup next to her, sitting atop a tripod. In her hands was a notebook.

"I feel energy leaving me," Trunks began. "I can still pull power from her. The throughput is the same as it was before. Same conversion rate. Everything matches the control, as far as I can tell."

"Is the rate at which your ki is leaving you smaller or larger than what you're pulling in?"

"It's…" He swallowed, his eyes narrowing. "It's the same. But her ki is, well, it's weaker than mine."

"Quantity is the same, but quality differs," the weakling confirmed.

18 cleared her throat, a scowl on her face. The idea that her ki was weak was still repulsive to her but… it was true, galling though that was to admit.

"Your ki is turning into mine, Trunks," she said a little more bitingly than she meant to, trying and failing to grasp the energy within her. To keep it from transforming into her own… _more elegant _ki.

Yeah, that was it.

"You need to think like me," he said, grinning widely. That purpose, that intent that filled his eyes was gone now. His expression was more relaxed too.

It was odd, how he did that sometimes. Whenever he was a Super Saiyan, he had this hard-ass mode where he was no-nonsense, all business. His aura was commanding, his stature did not ask for attention as much as it demanded it.

And then there were times like this, where he seemed like the same old Trunks she knew and loved. Kind, soft-spoken and selfless. Willing to drop everything to help anyone and able to see the good in just about anyone.

Including her.

Such an odd juxtaposition…

"If you're trying to get me to be all nice and stuff, you can just forget about it."

He threw his head back and laughed a long, deep belly laugh. By the time he brought his attention back down to her, his boyish grin had turned into a tender smile.

One she could not help but match.

'_This man…'_

"I… I love you just the way you are, 18."

The words warmed her and made her smile stretch wider, for it was the first time she had heard him vocalize his feelings for her like that.

It was crazy to think that, just about a month ago they were beginning to stumble through the early stages of attraction.

And around five months ago, they were at each other's throats.

'_God, but I __**did **__fall hard, didn't I?'_

"I love you, too," she murmured in return.

The weakling cleared her throat.

18 ignored her. The human, though useful to a point, was still too insignificant to bother with beyond absolute necessity.

"Right," Trunks said, expelling a heavy breath as his eyes narrowed.

18 watched as that focus returned to his eyes. The intent, the presence. The commanding aura. It was all there again.

"What is your purpose?"

She blinked. "My… Right now?"

"Your purpose," he repeated, his nostrils flaring even as his aura shifted potently. A minute breeze shifted the hair on her head and ruffled the papers of the weakling's notebook. "Why do you ascend?"

_Ascend._

That sounded good. Very, very good. She wanted to ascend. She wanted that power. She wanted that strength so, so much.

"Power," she breathed, her eyes widening. "I want power."

His aura, inside of her, thrummed.

And, for a split second, she felt incredible. _Incredible_. Unstoppable. Indomitable. She felt powerful beyond her wildest imagination, strength the likes of which she never even dreamed was possible.

And then it was gone, only a hollow feeling in its wake.

"I…" She swallowed, her eyes unfocused. "I-"

A hand seized her chin, tilting her head upward until she met Saint Saiyan's intense, darkened eyes.

"Focus on that reason," he said, his brow furrowing even as his eyes widened. Speaking slowly and emphasizing every word, he continued: "To ascend is to surpass what you are. You cannot do that easily. You need a reason. Intent. Focus. Why do you ascend? Why do you fight?"

He licked his lips and paused to expel a breath through his nose. The rest of the chamber may as well have not existed any longer, for all that he held her attention in his unyielding grasp. The murmurs of power slipping into her power core and thrumming – flighty and uncontrolled – did not help her single-mindedness. It was tantalizingly close.

"Grasp your intent, hone it, sharpen it until it is _everything _you are. Your reason to exist is to ascend! Your purpose in life is to ascend!"

Power. Power. She wanted that power so badly. She wanted it more than anything. But it remained as slippery as it always was, evading her grasp.

Frustration welled up inside of her and outrage was quick to follow. Saint Saiyan told her she needed a reason and-

'_A reason.'_

Power was not a reason, that was a tool with which she could see her will done. An implement to see her desires fulfilled.

So _why _did she want power?

Freedom. She-

Her aura pulsed and his power _roared _and she gasped even as golden aura surged out of her body.

Warmth quickly spread up and down her limbs.

She felt unstoppable.

Her hair lifted itself up, as though she was floating in water.

"Yes," Trunks stated, grinning down at her.

With that visage, and that angle, he almost looked like he did when he kept her captive in-

The golden energy wavered and a dissonance spread throughout it. She felt it quiver around her body, having only just settled into place about her form, and begin to slip away.

Within her, the influx of energy began turning into her own again.

'_No, no, no, no!'_

She _had _it. She was in control of Saint Saiyan's energy and it was a feeling so indescribable that she wanted nothing more than to feel it again.

18 grit her teeth and determinedly focused upon her freedom again, clawing and fighting to retain that fleeing golden energy. But where before, she was able to control it, now it slipped from her grasp effortlessly.

"No," she hissed.

"You lost sight."

"I didn't lose anything!" 18 riposted, glaring up at the man. "It just… It just left."

"Your purpose was shaken, your intent wavered. This power-"

"_Your _power-

"This power does not entertain the weak!"

She recoiled, shocked into speechlessness, for Trunks had never called her weak before. Not since she was his captive. It hurt to hear him say that, for he _knew _how important her strength was to her.

And that thought marshalled her hurt and turned it into heady, potent anger.

"Fuck you, Saint! Don't you dare look down on me!"

He was such an asshole! An absolute prick!

"Your intent wavered," he said again, in that unyielding tone of voice he favored when he was in his hard ass mode.

"Fuck you," she spat, again, more of a growl than anything.

Once she had his power, the _first _thing she was going to do with it was kick his ass. Beating him was still her goal. Always was, always would be. Her captor, her measuring stick.

The Saiyan power within her thrummed.

_He _was the reason her freedom was gone. He was the reason she couldn't explore her playground anymore.

Heady and potent, it spread through her body, infusing her limbs with that same addicting strength.

Her reason…

The ki surged and enveloped her once more. Her muscles bulged, her breathing quickened, her power skyrocketed to levels the likes of which she had never felt on her own.

"Saint Saiyan," she murmured, lifting her head and looking him dead in the eye. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

What he saw must have pleased him, for her grinned a toothy grin at her. It would have looked at home on his face when he wasn't being such a hard ass, but the glaring eyes only made it look menacing.

_This _was familiar. 18 was used to seeing Super Saiyans look at her like this.

They stepped away from one another, as though by silent agreement. His aura spat and hissed and hers' returned the challenge, both glowing a fierce golden-yellow. His hair stood on end whilst hers' trailed weightlessly behind her head's every move.

He shifted his weight and she matched it immediately.

Muscles coiled. Teeth were bared in grins and snarls.

And they flew at each other in a storm of Super Saiyan power.

* * *

Later, much later, they lay on the ground next to each other, panting and sweating and stinking. Their muscles ached, first from going on all out using the power of a Super Saiyan, pulling energy from one another when they faltered even as fists flew and kicks were launched and energy blasts were fired. Then, later, after their lust for battle was satiated, their lust for one another forced its way to the surface of their thoughts.

So they spent more time… _fighting_.

Now, naked and lying against one another, utterly spent and sated, they slept.

Two souls, worldless and lost amidst the stars, on a journey to save a planet and best an impossibly powerful villain.

The odds were stacked against them, the challenges like something out of a fable of heroes. But they would rise to meet them, all the same.

Together.

* * *

**A/N: **This chapter… I rewrote this thing four times and I still don't like the way Trunks goes SS2. I wanted to do the form justice but I ended up just dragging the entire thing out too long.

Bah! It'll never be perfect by virtue of the fact that I am human, but I got it as close as I think I can.

Let me know what you think about it, the transformation, the chapter in general, share with me your thoughts!

Also, if you have **ideas you want me to write **in the next chapter, share those too! Trunks, 18 and Bulma will be on New Namek collecting Dragon Balls so the next one will be more light-hearted. No fighting or training, more just taking a break.

Now then, Cell's an asshole, amirite?

Still, he gave Trunks the push he needed to ascend beyond that of a Super Saiyan. He's a Super Saiyan 2 now, if only it wasn't too late. 18 has gained the ability to use the ki of Trunks' Super Saiyan form and will be much stronger for it, in possession of a sort of transformation all her own, now.

And you know what that means! Power levels, yo!

**Trunks**

Base Power: 5

Super Saiyan: 10

Super Saiyan 2: 20

**Android 18**

Base Power: 5

Super Saiyan: 10

**Android 17**

Base Power: 5

**Perfect Cell**

Base Power: 15

Trunks made some gains with his base power level, enough to even himself out with 18 and 17. That's impressive, given the androids were originally met to match a Super Saiyan. Now he should be able to exchange blows with them in just his base form. And since his Super Saiyan forms act as multipliers for his base power, they just got a whole lot more dangerous too!

**I-love-Trunks1: **I like your taste! Trunks has always been my favorite as well, I was pretty disappointed with DB:Super didn't include him in the present timeline after his world got destroyed. I'm glad you're enjoying the story and, yes, kids are in the plan for Trunks and 18 in the future! I'm looking forward to writing how that changes their goals/motivations and what not. It should be an interesting challenge! Thanks for your review!

**Guest: **Thanks for pointing out Cell's power level was a bit high, it never should have been a 20, just a 15. And yes, the multipliers are: SS is x2, SS2 is x4.

**Frozenseed: **I don't think 18 will ever be 'nice'. She may mellow out a bit in the future but priority number one will always be herself, so no worries on her acting too OOC! I'm glad you like the growth in their relationship, even if it is fast, I try hard to stay true to 18 (and Trunks, ofc) with every scene I write and will continue to do so in the future as well. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

**Arkaith: **Giggling at displays of affection? I understand, I usually can't help smiling or grinning when I read them either. You must've had fun with this chapter! Hah! Thanks for posting!

**Roxasduelwielder: **I'm not sure I know who you're talking about. Google doesn't turn up anything for me when I search 'dbz mail'. Unless you mean Mai? She's still here, Pilaf and the gang still turned themselves into kids and, presumably, are off somewhere trying to get eternal life. As for appearing in this story, I might do a cameo with her and the gang in the future. Thanks for your review!

Last piece of business, I'm finding it easier to post on Saturdays than on Fridays after work. So the next chapter will be up on **05/11/2019. **Probably early in the morning, because I have to go out of town later that afternoon.

Till next time,

Phailen


	6. Chapter 6

_Interlude_

* * *

_Trunks – New Namek_

"Are you sure, Mother?"

He stood on an alien world, filled with too vibrant greens and too deep blues. People, with antennae on their heads and emerald skin covering their bodies, shuffled about in the town nearby. Their rounded, windowless buildings only reminded him just how far away he was from… from where Earth used to be.

"I can help you gather them," he insisted, focused upon thoughts of the planet he failed. "It'll be faster this way."

The blue haired woman shook her head. "Just relax, Trunks. I need to negotiate with the elders of each village to get each dragon ball. Flying around faster than my aircar won't speed up the process."

"Still…" He frowned.

"Trunks," Mother grunted in the same tone of voice she used to reprimand him. "You've been working your butt off, training to beat Cell the entire way here. _Relax. _Have fun for a day. Go hang out with your…" She glanced over his shoulder at 18, a sly smirk on her lips. "_Girlfriend _at a beach!"

Heat touched his face in the form of a blush. The idea _was _appealing. When they fled Earth, they used the bags that he and 18 had packed for their day at the waterpark. Thus, they had their swimwear with them here… and the nearby village had given them permission to use the beach shores as they wished.

The perks of traveling with one of the people who helped save the Namekians, no doubt.

Mother snorted as he waffled over the choice, turning away from him to toss a capsule on the ground. In short order, she had a blue aircar waiting to used in front of her.

"Mother-"

"Come on, Saint," 18 growled from somewhere behind him. A hand grasped the back of his shirt. "We're going to the beach whether you like it or not."

"We can split up to get-"

"_Or_ you can spend a day at the beach with _me_. Without… ugh, people around to disturb us."

He swallowed, entirely aware that he wanted to go to the beach with her but still determined to help with the hunt for the dragon balls.

"We-"

"In the sun. With water. And me, in a bikini."

He _did _like the sound of that.

He swallowed again and stopped resisting.

"Good," 18 said.

He didn't even need to turn around to know she was smiling.

* * *

_Trunks – Two hours later_

The water was cool on his legs, the sun overhead and the towel under his back were warm. He felt content and sleepy.

_Whoosh_

The waves brought with them a new surge of cooling water and his legs were once more doused in the refreshing liquid.

"Mmmph," 18 half-groaned, half-moaned somewhere behind him.

Trunks flipped himself onto his belly, upper half supported with his elbows, to find his lover stretching like a cat atop her own towel. He stared, unabashed, as her spine arched up off the ground with the force of her movement.

_Whoosh_

The entire thing felt like a show and he, the eager spectator. Her body was not thin nor was it lithe. She had a musculature to her that reflected her life as a fighter. Her legs, her abdomen, her shoulders and her arms all bore subtle, wiry muscle that belied her strength. She did not have as much weight to her as he did, but it was enough to keep her arms from being stick-thin, a subtle yet noticeable curve to each and every part of her.

_Whoosh_

And it was all on display for him now. From the way her belly stretched and abs flexed, to the way her powerful legs pressed the heels of her feet into the sand just below the edge of her towel. Her arms reached up and over her head and her breasts were left nearly falling out of her barely-there bikini.

He knew, now, why she bought two. The blue, polka-dotted one was much more… practical.

But this one, the black frilly-lacey one with bows… He liked this one.

"Are you just going to watch?"

No, no he wasn't.

_Whoosh_

An idea came to him just as he brought himself up to a knee. An idea that did not involve he and 18 ending up naked on a towel, sadly enough, but it _did _involve plenty of touching.

And, more importantly, it could only be done in the here and now.

He finished raising himself up to his feet, resisting the urge to pull at his too-small swim trunks as he did so. It was an older pair that he never really got to use, given the state of the world when he was younger. He never got around to getting a new pair that fit and so he was left with a pair of dark green shorts that extended only halfway down his thighs.

When he mentioned, idly, getting a new pair, 18 told him he would be doing nothing of the sort.

It took him about thirty seconds to find out the swimsuit hugged his backside fiercely and that the woman was loathe to see that gone. They still left enough room in the front for him to be comfortable and he was pleased that she liked looking, so the suit was there to stay.

_Whoosh_

Right, the plan. A devious grin pulled at his lips insistently as he paced toward his lover. He suppressed it, though, even as she stretched languidly before him again. Heat gathered in his nethers but there was something to be said for the build-up to the act, this he learned, oddly enough, from their fight after she first learned to use the power of a Super Saiyan.

_This _build-up to the act was going to be far, far more fun.

For him.

And her, maybe.

'_Oh well,'_ he decided as he finally reached 18, allowing his grin to sprout in full. The woman had about half a second to narrow her eyes before he scooped her up, off the ground, like he was carrying her as a bride.

But he wasn't going to carry her through a door.

No, Trunks was going to carry her right over to the ocean.

His grin widened until it became a toothy thing.

"Trunks?"

The Saiyan offered her a wink, but said nothing more.

Lips pursed, her eyes lost that dark glint that he knew and loved so well. "If you think we're going to do it in the ocean, you can forget about it."

He shrugged, carrying her into the water proper. It lapped first at his heels and quickly came up to his knees. Further, he pressed on though, until he was in waist-high water.

"Trunks," 18 continued, eyeing him from underneath her bangs. "I swear if you dr-"

He dropped her.

She went down with a squeal, a splash of water and lots of flailing limbs. The look on her face as she went under was one of utter surprise – wide eyed and slack jawed as it was.

So out of character for her was the look that he could not help but throw his head back and laugh.

Hard.

In hindsight, _laughing _at 18 after he dumped her into the water probably wasn't his greatest idea, but the look on her face was just too precious to ignore!

His laughter was cut off when she threw her shoulder into his gut and he bent over with a gasp. She took the opportunity to grab at his neck and kick one of his legs out from under him.

Unbalanced, he was promptly tossed over her shoulder.

He hit the water, sputtering and gasping, only just then realizing how _cold _it was. Quickly, easily, he got his feet back under him and surfaced just in time to find 18 finishing up tucking herself back into her bikini top.

Soaking wet and still cold, he grinned a wide grin.

It was probably for the best that the Namekians told them of a cove they could use on an island near their village. No unexpected visitors would bother them here.

More importantly, no one was going to get flashed.

"You're such an idiot," the woman in question muttered, swiping away a strand of hair that had plastered itself to her face.

He kicked off the sand, loose enough that he lost some of his momentum immediately, but he still reached his lover in two quick strides.

"Trunks! Trunks, you-"

The Saiyan wrapped his arms around her belly as she tried to fly up and out of the water, arresting her momentum and throwing himself backward, underneath the waves once more.

18 was, of course, taken along for the ride.

Cold liquid again washed over him as he pressed his face into 18's chest underwater. The lacy, stringy bikini shifted as she struggled – a hand slapped his face and another grabbed a fistful of his hair.

But Trunks, Ascended Super Saiyan, Slayer of Freeza and Ender of the Android Threat, held on valiantly. Despite what punishment 18 inflicted, she could not shake him. Her legs ended up on either side of his torso – he _loved _how her muscles felt against him – and her arms remained near his head, slapping, pinching and pulling relentlessly.

He stayed underwater for a few seconds longer, until air began to become a luxury.

Then, he put his feet underneath himself and lifted them both up and above the surface of the water. On his feet properly, the water came up to just above his waist. His arms settled under 18's backside as gravity re-enforced its will upon them and her legs hung to either side of his waist. Her arms settled about his neck.

Until, you know, she realized she came out of her top… again.

Which left her breasts free to dangle enticingly in front of his face.

"You are _such _an idiot," she huffed, eyeing him for a long moment before her hands went to work fixing her top. Once that was done, she irritably brushed a strand of hair out of face and glared down at him, brow furrowed and eyes glinting with a dangerous light.

Unbothered, he grinned up at her, a toothy thing filled with the excitement brought on from letting go of his responsibilities for the day. From experiencing the freedom of simply living. Of being _happy_.

18 huffed again and abruptly turned her eyes away from his face, up and over his head, back toward the island. Her lips were quivering.

She remained silent even as the water slapped and caressed their lower bodies, cool and refreshing once more.

Then, a sigh escaped her and a small smile bloomed on her face. She looked back down at him, her eyes half lidded.

"You are… impossible," she intoned, shaking her head.

His grin renewed itself and, when she lifted her chin up and sighed at the sky, he began placing butterfly kisses on her neck.

"Saint-" She laughed, putting a hand over half of his face. "Trunks! Stop it, you idiot! And let me down!"

The Saiyan hummed, his grin fading to a wide smile, and did as she asked.

Once on her feet again – coming up to just about his shoulders – she crossing her arms and stared up at him, a single eyebrow arched. "Well, we're all wet now. And _not _in a good way. I hope you're happy, Saint Saiyan."

"Very," he murmured, spreading his arms wide in a stretch of his own. Her eyes tracked the movement of muscle on his chest for a moment for they returned to his face.

"Honestly," 18 muttered, shaking her head again. Idly, she glanced back toward her towel on the beach. "I was _so _comfortable. And you went and ruined it."

"It was worth it - that was fun!" He riposted, toothy grin back in place. He splashed a little water at her.

"Trunks," she stated, lips quivering again as she recoiled away from the liquid.

"We're already wet," he argued, throwing more water.

She laughed as it hit her in the shoulder, a deep belly laugh that made her throw her head back and her mouth open wide. A genuine laugh that made him pause for a moment to admire the sight of her.

The grin morphed into a smile and his own eyes relaxed until they half-lidded.

18 finished her laugh, hands gripping her stomach, and returned her gaze to him. She paused, however, when she saw the look on his face.

"What?" The android asked, head tilted slightly.

He shook his head, spending a moment longer to savor the sight of her at ease.. "I'm glad we met, 18."

Her mouth opened, then closed. Open again, then closed again.

Then: "You mean when I was trying to kill you?"

'_What an odd pair we make.'_

"From mortal enemies to lovers," he mused, approaching her slowly. "Bet you never thought you'd be screaming _my _name mid-orgasm."

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open again, a blush was quick to form on her cheeks.

But her wit, her silver tongue was just as quick to respond.

"And _you _thought the only thing you'd be sticking in me was that sword," she murmured, recovering enough to sashay forward, meeting him halfway on his walk to her.

A redness to his own face now, he grasped her hand when they reached one another. The digits, slender and delicate-looking yet capable of so much destruction, were promptly lifted to his lips. He placed a tender kiss on the knuckles of her fist.

The mood about them anything but playful, now, he lifted her hand up and over his head. She finished the motion herself and placed it around his neck even as his other arm wrapped itself around her back. Quickly, there was little room for the cool sea water left between them.

"I love you, 18," he said quietly, looking down into her eyes as she stared back up at him in full, none of her usual coyness on display.

Her lips twitched into a smile and she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "I love you too, Trunks."

Then, she grabbed his hand and began leading him back toward the shore.

A teasing grin was tossed over her shoulder at him.

She didn't need to say a single thing.

For what was the build-up, without the act itself?

* * *

_18 – Four hours later_

She stirred when she heard someone approaching their hidden little cove. Awareness came to her easily enough, for she never truly slept, though the period of hibernation she spent curled into Trunks' side was better than any sleep could possibly be.

They were underneath a rocky outcropping, further away from the water. The cliff was small, just enough to make their hidden alcove just that, and it also gave them some protection from the midday sun.

Though now it looked to be more of an evening sun.

"Trunks?" The weakling's voice called from further down the beach. "Where are you guys?"

She sighed and lifted her head off of her lover's shoulder. In no rush whatsoever, she got to her feet and clumsily pulled on her bottoms – they were nearby.

"Trunks! 18! Where are you?"

Her top… Ah. That was out on the beach, still, near the weakling. Given all the trouble the stupid little lacy-stringy thing gave her, she had half a mind to leave it there. But she looked _good _in it and she knew it. That was the only reason she cared enough to keep adjusting it.

That and Trunks probably wouldn't let her near the Namekian village without it on.

Heedless of her nudity, she traipsed out onto the beach. The sun was warm on her back and she relished the feeling, resolving to visit a beach when she returned to Earth, after it was wished back.

"Ah! Hey- Oh… Why is this becoming a thing?"

She glanced at the weakling to find the woman looking away from her, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers. Behind her, the blue aircar waited, seven large, orange balls in its backseat.

18 stopped. "Are _those _the Dragon Balls?"

"Yes," the human nodded, chancing at glance at her, only to return to looking away. "They're bigger than the ones from Earth, probably because they can grant _three _wishes per use instead of just one!"

"Three wishes," 18 wondered, pacing instead toward the aircar. "You can wish for anything?"

"Well, almost anything. You can't have the same wish granted twice, and- Can you cover up?!"

"So I can wish for endless power?" The android said sharply, giving the weakling her full attention.

The human froze when she heard the question and, despite the fact that 18 still had no top on, turned to look at the android in full.

"_Are _you going to wish for power?"

18 turned to face the weakling, arms crossed underneath her breasts. "Maybe. You said we get three. One to bring back Earth. One to bring back Julie. Then what?"

"The second one will be used to bring back _everyone,_" the human said.

The blonde shrugged. "As long as Julie comes back. Saint Saiyan will probably insist on all the other weaklings coming back too."

The blue haired woman said nothing more, only staring at her harder than she ever dared to stare before.

And 18 stopped to consider killing her then and there. She needed the weakling to pilot the space ship to get back to Earth, but Trunks could probably do that. Saint Saiyan would hate her if she ended his mother, though.

And the woman _did _give her the ki absorbers.

The android bit down on her lower lip, hatred of everything human and gratefulness for the chance to become stronger warring within her head.

In the end, the gratitude won out, for the ability to use Saint Saiyan's power like it was her own was easily the best gift she'd ever received.

Next to Julie's lemon cakes.

"Fine," 18 intoned, nodding. The fate of the weakling decided – her name started with a B or something, but Trunks always called her 'Mother' so she had no idea what the woman's actual name was – the android began to pace back toward the top half of her swimsuit.

It was time to summon a wish-granting dragon, after all.

* * *

_Trunks – One hour later_

"There!" The little green alien exclaimed, turning to face them once more. "It's done!"

"Great!" Mother said, clapping her hands together. "Earth is back, the people are back… Now we just need a third wish."

Trunks released a sigh of relief as a weight left his shoulders. That his planet was back and whole and all the people were living their lives once more was enough cause for celebration.

But they even had another wish, now.

The Dragon Balls were truly amazing… it was too bad the Earth's had been destroyed when Piccolo died.

"Maybe you could just wish yourselves back to Earth?" Dende intoned.

"Ohh! That is a good idea!" Mother agreed, nodding. The little Namekian nodded in turn and turned-

"Hold it!" 18 barked at his side. She was back in her usual getup – the Chinese dress, leggings and running shoes – just as he was in his, sans the jacket.

Dende froze and Mother turned to look at the blonde next to him, her brow furrowed.

"What?" The blue haired woman stated, her arms crossing. She was frowning now, too.

18 paced forward until she was in front of Dende. "I have a wish I want granted."

Trunks arched his eyebrows in idle thought, wondering at what the android might want. The first thing that came to mind was clothing. And lots of it. But he hoped she would be wise enough to forgo that, considering they could get her plenty of that back on Earth, the normal way.

"I gathered the Dragon Balls," Mother said, frowning still.

"Well, _I _have a wish," 18 returned, narrowing her eyes.

Trunks was left in the unenviable position of having to pick a side between his lover and his mother. He knew, immediately, which side he would pick too.

Because, while he understood his mother's concern, he also trusted 18 implicitly. She rescued him from Perfect Cell after his final gambit failed. She fought alongside him even when the odds were stacked against them. She trained with him to use her endless power and his potent ki to make them both into stronger fighters.

She was his lover. Hells, she was even his best friend, now.

"Mother," he intoned, his voice quiet but strong.

"_If you treat her like a cruel killer, how will she become anything else?"_

"I- Trunks?" The woman looked shocked, her eyes widening even as the frown fell off of her lips. "You can't be serious!"

"I am," he muttered, turning to look 18 in the eyes. Realizing, now, that she could truly wish for anything. Her death chip to be gone. He and mother to be dead. Enough power to beat him properly in a fight.

Anything.

Mother glanced back at the android, once, then paced back to him, utterly and completely silent. Her fingers were curled into fists and her entire posture was rigid.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Trunks," she murmured as she came to stand next to him, turning to watch the proceedings in full.

"I do."

18 offered him a minute smile.

Then, she turned to Dende.

"I wish I could eat food, like Trunks can."

* * *

_18 – One week later_

The spaceship hummed quietly around her as it rocketed back toward a restored Earth. There were still three weeks to go in the journey, but time was passing quickly.

She and Trunks were keeping busy by working to exchange their ki faster and more efficiently. As it stood right now, it took him around five minutes to fully restore his energy if it was depleted and she could only hold onto about a minute's worth of Super Saiyan power before she used it all up.

Using his Ascended Super Saiyan ki was beyond her, right now. Apparently that form took anger. And _a lot _of it too. She had the focus, the intent that Super Saiyan required, but evidently the anger she felt over Julie's death was eclipsed by Trunks' anger over the Earth's destruction.

And that made sense. She cared for only one person on that planet, now… Saint Saiyan saw each and every person there as worth saving. As people he wanted to protect. People he cared for.

She could not fathom the empathy required of him for that.

18 couldn't even begin to understand how he could care for humanity at all.

But that was Trunks in a nutshell, selfless and kind and everything she was not.

"Screwdriver. Philips," the weakl- Bulma, was her name, said behind her.

"Ah…" The little Namekian murmured, hunched over a toolbox on the ground, off to her side. "Which one was that again?"

"The one that's not flat," 18 muttered, her voice dry.

"The one that's shaped like a cross," Bulma said, far more kindly, as she pulled a bit of metal out of the android's back.

She was having her death chip removed.

"Ah! Got it!" Dende exclaimed, thrusting the screwdriver in question toward the blue-haired woman's face.

The addition to their group was going to become Kami. The God of Earth. Riiiight.

But at least it would mean the Dragon Balls would come back. She had _a lot _of wishes she wanted granted.

The food one was done – a mixed blessing, in all honesty. She did not realize how annoying a hungry, grumbling stomach could be. She also did not realize how horrid the rations they had on the ship could taste.

Trunks assured her the food on Earth was better.

And it better be. Because if _this _was what she got for wishing she could eat food, she wanted to take her wish back.

"Thank you, Dende," Bulma muttered, accepting the screwdriver and handing the Namekian a little piece of metal plating in exchange. "This might smart, 18."

The blonde only just kept herself from shrugging, for the woman was wrist deep in her innards and that would doubtlessly end badly for her. Instead, she said: "Go for it."

A jolt coursed through her body and she only just suppressed a flinch from jerking her out of her stillness.

"There!" Bulma said. "It's no longer connected to your power core. Now I just need to remove it…"

Silence descended over them then and the blue haired woman dismissed Dende on orders to bring Trunks – who was training downstairs in the gravity room as an Ascended Super Saiyan – some rations. The little green alien hopped to quickly enough, eager to please and more than a little star-struck by the human woman's presence.

'_Stupid little kid,' _18 decided. Of all the people to be in awe of on this spaceship, the kid chose a regular – admittedly smart – human scientist.

Instead of an android with an endless supply of energy in her chest.

Or the Ascended Super Saiyan with enough power to destroy planets in his little finger.

Whatever.

"You surprised me, back there, you know," Bulma muttered amidst the tiny scratching sound of screws being loosened. "I expected the worst when you went to make your wish…"

18 considered responding, but in the end she decided to hold her silence, content to let the weakling – for though she cared enough to learn her name, the human _was _still weak – continue with her blathering.

Human noise.

"You went and proved me wrong. I thought you hated us."

"I hate _you_," she clarified. "Or, I used to. Now, you're just weak."

The blue haired woman snorted and fell silent once more. Quickly, the ambient sounds of the spaceship's engines and the humming of the gravity room's generator overtook them. Occasionally, those sounds would be overcome by a dull _thud _doubtlessly brought about by Saint Saiyan's training downstairs.

But then, as all good things were wont to do, the silence ended.

"I'm sorry I treated you so horribly, 18."

The android blinked slowly, frowning at the wall across the room. "You… What?"

"I put this chip in you. I treated you like you were going to murder my son the first chance you got. I didn't trust you at all… I treated you like you were some mindless, murdering machine. You deserve better than that from me… So, forgive this old woman and her prejudices?"

That Bulma found that behavior strange was strange to 18.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," the blonde muttered.

She heard the blue haired woman suck in a tiny breath behind her even as the hands inside her guts stilled.

"That- You're not mad?"

This time, 18 glanced over her shoulder, just enough to make eye contact.

"Bulma, you were so beneath my notice that I don't remember how you treated me."

A startled laugh escaped the human and she shook her head, returning her attentions to removing the death chip.

"You remind me of Vegeta, sometimes, you know that?"

"The one with spikey hair? Saint Saiyan's father?"

"Yeah… Yeah, that's the one."

18 grunted. "Good. He didn't back down when he died. He fought to the very end. If I have to be like one of those weaklings, I want to be like him."

Bulma breathed in deeply, then exhaled just as heavily.

"You know… I might've been offended a decade ago, if I heard that… But it happened so long ago, they've been gone so long…" The human paused and 18 heard her swallow heavily. Then, she released a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Instead, I'm just happy he died the way he wanted to. Is that weird?"

"Hmph. He died on his feet, fighting for the people he wanted to protect." She did not know if that was true, but it felt like the… right thing to say. "He had nothing to be ashamed of. Neither do you."

Silence stretched between them again, this time not even punctuated by the sounds of Bulma working at the metal within her.

The spaceship hummed.

The gravity room powered down.

Trunks and Dende began speaking, their voices growing closer – they were coming up the stairs.

18 heard a sniffle behind her, muted quickly by a hand covering a mouth.

Then: "Thank you, 18."

An ounce of respect for this human entered her then, because there was something to be said about the strength of her will to live. To fight.

"You're welcome, Bulma."

* * *

_Trunks - Three weeks, four days later_

Wakefulness assaulted his senses in a slow battle of attrition; a battle he was losing. There was something bright beyond his eyelids, a glaring light that demanded his attention.

A sigh escaped him.

He lifted his right arm up to rub at his eyes, but found the limb trapped and senseless.

'_18,' _he realized, his mind still sluggish.

His left arm came up to rub at his eyes instead and, when his sight returned to him, he glanced down at find the blonde android laying atop him on the spaceship's lone couch. Her position looked to be anything but comfortable, sprawled over him as she was, but she never truly slept and so she never truly needed a restful 'sleep'.

The perks of being an android, no doubt.

"Where's West City?" Dende's voice said, somewhere beyond the backrests of the couch. "That's where you live, right?"

Mother's voice answered the young Namekian.

New Namekian.

Whatever.

Either way, the reply the alien received was too low and too softly spoken for his ears to catch, evidence that his mother was trying to let he and 18 sleep. Or him, at least.

But Dende speaking of West City and its location also meant something very important, something that urged his drowsy mind into a state of wakefulness faster than anything he'd experienced before.

Earth was in sight.

They were back.

Muscles, still somewhat fatigued and certainly still sore from training, clenched and coiled. Limbs stretched as best they could underneath 18's not-insignificant weight, the metal strengthening her bones and the synthetic fibers reinforcing her muscles working to make her heavier than she otherwise appeared.

He sat up.

The android woke.

As usual, the process was as unnerving at it was sudden. Her eyes opened, intent and focused immediately. There was no process or procedure to her waking up, she just… _was_. No drowsiness or state of half-awareness.

Eerie, really.

The woman blinked, lifting herself up onto her forearms, still atop him. Limbs that should have been asleep and bones that should have been sore, given her position, bothered her as little as always.

"We're here," she said, eyes narrowing, a scowl pulling at her lips.

"We're here," he agreed, his jaw tense.

It was time to kill Cell.

* * *

**A/N: **Something of an interlude this time, to bridge the gap between Trunks getting SS2 and he and 18 returning to fight Cell. Still, some important stuff happened here: 18 begins to respect Bulma, Dende returns with the trio to Earth… A necessary, but slower chapter.

No power levels this time, since it's an interlude and nothing changed with the fighters.

Also, I'm going to be busy this next weekend, so the next chapter will be posted on **05/25/2019. **We're in the final stretch of the fic now!

And to that end, if you lot have any scenes you want to see in the epilogue chapters (I'm planning three, chronologically, to bridge the gap between this and Dragon Ball Super) then please share!

**SuperSaiyajin4Vegeta: **Damnit Getes! That man would blow my gravity numbers out of the water… I think I based them upon what Goku trained at when he first became a Super Saiyan. Oh well, it's a minor thing and largely in the past now. Thanks for mentioning it all the same!

**Roxasduelwielder: **Cell would be weaker given he did not absorb 17 and 18, yes. He… did something different here, though. Remember, I mentioned 13 but I did not mention his buddies!

**I-love-Trunks1: **I feel like you and I would enjoy a Trunks-centric Dragon Ball show enormously, hah! As for who gets brought back to life with the wish, Bulma _did _said 'everyone'… I'll just leave that there, can't spoil too much! Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

**Arkaith: **Thanks! I have to be careful with power-ups here, hand them out too often and they feel cheap, but without them the heroes cannot win their fights. I'm glad you liked the SS2 transformation (that was the scene that kept giving me trouble last chapter) and not to worry, I'll be finishing out the main story here in the next couple chapters. Beyond that, I have three epilogue chapters planned to bridge the gap from Z to Super.

Till next time,

Phailen


	7. Chapter 7

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

* * *

_Trunks – Three weeks later_

The first step he took off the ship was a catharsis unlike anything he had experienced before. The Earth was there, whole and complete. Blue skies, clear of clouds. Rolling plains dotted with trees. Alive and beautiful… but even that paled in comparison to West City.

It was rebuilt and complete and devoid of any wreckage or rubble or shattered storefronts and cracked roads. Eighteen years' worth of neglect and destruction, gone. The sight took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes, for he had never truly seen this city whole and complete before. Slowly, he sunk to his knees at the precipice of the space ship, jaw slack and fingers boneless.

Joy, potent and intense, surged through him as he held his stare and observed the city. _His _city. A restored sight that he, honestly, did not expect to affect him so powerfully.

And, among those streets, he noticed something else. Something _more_.

People.

He saw men and women and children, strolling and talking and laughing.

Living.

Some of those faces, some of those precious faces, were seared into his oldest memories. An old man with a grimace of pain stretched across his lips, an elderly lady with eyes widened in horror, a young man with tear tracts etched into his cheeks. Each expression sewn into their faces for eternity, frozen in the cold embrace of death. Faces decayed or half-burnt, touched by the worst of tragedies and left, forgotten, unloved and unburied.

The faces of the dead. Of the victims of the androids' reign of terror.

But now, the dead walked amongst the living once more.

His tears began to fall in earnest, for not only was his planet restored, but everyone, _everyone _that they had lost to the last two decades of anguish was back and living once more.

A watery, burbling laugh forced itself free of his throat and he blinked, several times, to clear his eyes.

For he did not want to miss a single second of this.

A presence, silent and watchful, appeared at his side.

And Trunks, sniffling once and rubbing at his eyes until they were as dry as they could be, climbed back to his feet. Though he did not want to, he looked away from West City.

For his lover was just beside him, watching the city as well, a neutral look to her face.

"18," he whispered, lost for words. For how could he describe what he felt then? How could he describe this? This was supposed to be impossible! Beyond all mortal power and yet, here, in front of him, he saw people nearly two decades dead walking amongst the living again, whole and healthy. "18…"

She turned to him, scowling, but upon seeing his face that expression morphed into something half-a-smile, half-a-grimace.

"Saint Saiyan," she murmured, rolling her eyes and blowing a strand of hair out of her face. She looked away from him, back toward the city. "We have a lot of weaklings to protect now, don't we?"

He laughed, a short, surprised bark of elation. "We?"

"Well, I'm not going to let you risk your life for those idiots alone," she muttered, turning back to look at him. "Honestly. If you think you just get to go and die on me for-"

He stepped forward and grabbed her in a bear hug, happiness and giddiness over her and the city and the people and the loveher felt for her combining into some emotion he could not put to words.

"Hey!" She grumbled, when her feet left the ground. "Saint. Trunks. Put me down."

He did so, though not before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She grimaced and wiped at it.

Only then did he realize he was still crying.

"Porunga did good work, huh?" His mother murmured, an easy smile on her lips as she leaned against the doorway of the spaceship. He and 18 were on the landing, just in front of the steps leading to the ground, while Dende was hovering just behind the blue-haired woman's leg, wide eyes taking in the sight of Earth for the first time.

"Everyone's back, mom," he muttered, grinning wide. So wide. "Everyone."

Her eyes turned to him and scanned his expression. Her smile widened, then: "Oh, sweetheart. Come here…"

She hugged him, he hugged her.

It was a picturesque ending to their journey.

He could not have asked for anything better.

Silence stretched between the group of them, then, even as he heard a commotion begin to develop in the streets in front of Capsule Corps. Headquarters.

Because that building was back too. The spaceship was outside of the grandiose structure even now, restored entirely from its destruction at the hands of 17 and 18.

He swallowed once and breathed in, then out, in, then out again and released Mother. Two steps backward put him at the landing, just above the stairs leading to the ground. At the bottom of those stairs, several people had gathered. Young and old, men and women alike. Beyond them, even more people were beginning to trickle towards them.

Each and every one of them stared up at their little group, wide eyed.

"Mr. Trunks?" A man called.

Then, another, a woman: "It is! It's him!"

"That woman is there too! The android!"

"-captured by Mr. Trunks! Duh!"

"-about Cell-"

"Other fighters are dealing-"

"There's a tournament right-"

"-going to help them?"

The voices blurred and mixed together until he could not tell one from the other. A cacophony of shouts, all demanded his attention at once.

18 looked about ready to start murdering, if the grimace and narrow eyed stare meant what he thought, so he held up his hands in an attempt to get the crowd to quiet down.

They did so. Slowly, one by one, and with a great many shoves, but the noise was reduced to a low murmur.

"What's this about Cell and a tournament?" He asked, immediately, for that sounded very, very familiar to him.

"He's fighting your one-armed friend now! Outside East City! We-"

He missed the rest of the man's sentence, for his brain stuttered to a stop at the thought of Gohan.

'_Gohan.'_

He was alive? He was- Of course he was! If the people here were- And he was a victim of the androids too! Then…

"Gohan," he uttered, wide eyed.

He had to find him. He- The man said he was fighting Cell? Now? _Perfect_ Cell?

"Shit," he spat, turning toward 18.

"Trunks!" Mother barked.

He ignored her. "We need to go to East City. Now."

The blonde eyed him, a scowl on her face. "I need a nap, Saint Saiyan."

"18! Please, just _do this _for me?"

The woman released something between a sigh and a huff, then: "Fine. We'll go save your annoying friend."

Trunks blasted off the platform, into the air, without any further delay, ignoring his mother's calls.

* * *

_Trunks – Two hours later_

East City was far from West City and it was a place he had not visited since he was a child. He had friends there, once upon a time, and going to it only awakened memories of loss within him. Memories of a happier, more innocent time; times spent at a theme park, running around on smaller legs, riding roller coasters and ferris wheels. Laughing and just enjoying life, ignorant of the android threat entirely.

He could see the theme park off in the distance, even now.

Once upon a time, it was mess of destroyed rides and stalls. 17 and 18 had their fun touring the park and then amused themselves by tearing it all down, until it was nothing but a graveyard of torn metal and rubble.

'_Not anymore, though. My childhood friends are alive, though probably ten years old… And Gohan too.'_

Shit. Gohan was nine years older than him when he was killed, but now… six years later, he was almost as old as his mentor.

And what an odd thought that was. Hell, _he _could be the mentor-

_Boom_

It was distant, very distant. A brief flash of light that appeared quickly and vanished just as rapidly. Nothing followed it. It was ki, no doubt about it. And where ki was being used like that, there was battle to be had.

His nostrils flared and his brow furrowed. Ahead of him lie Cell. Perfect Cell. Monster, murderer, android slated to die.

His will, his resolve, solidified in his mind.

Power honed by ironclad intent thrummed and welled up inside of him.

And, in barely an instant, for such was his mastery over the form, the Super Saiyan was born anew.

"18!" He barked to his companion, for she could still not handle his Ascended Super Saiyan ki.

Obediantly, perhaps too eagerly, the android at his side flew closer and placed her hand on his back. He returned the gesture and together, while they rocketed toward the battlefield, they drew energy from one another. Slowly, yet steadily, her aura grew in potency and expanded to twice its former size. The colorless ki bled yellow until her hair whipped wildly about her head, her muscles bulged and pulsed and her eyes narrowed with the intent needed to utilize the legendary power of a Super Saiyan.

Then, she nodded to him, disengaged, and he focused inward once more.

For while the power of a Super Saiyan was legendary, Trunks' strength was even greater.

The anger, the rage, the potent, overflowing fury of the Ascended Super Saiyan washed over him. Sights of the Earth bleeding red and coming apart before his eyes was his fuel. The injustice forced upon billions. The atrocity perpetrated by his victim.

His aura swelled as intent mixed freely with rage.

Lightning, deadly and potent and so very wild, lashed about his person with such an intensity that 18 was forced to put more distance between them.

And ahead of them, the fighting had stopped. No more blasts of ki rocketed across the landscape. No more craters appeared. No activity was had.

As though they knew what they were about to witness.

His rage marshalled. His aura ready. His intent honed.

Trunks _reached_.

And his power responded.

He let loose a roar infused with the power of an Ascended Super Saiyan. A being so powerful that even the legendary beings of the galaxy would be made to bow and scrape before it. Such was its awesome power. The form to end all forms.

Its will was made reality.

Its rage was made into tales shared through generations.

His hair grew more brittle, the lightning settled about him as a permanent thing, his muscles bulged.

And the Earth tasted his power for the first time.

The air burned and the acrid smell of ozone surrounded him as he blasted himself forward, toward the dead-monster-who-did-not-know-it. 18 was left behind.

An acceptable risk.

His rage demanded satisfaction.

His intent would be seen through.

His will _would _be done.

Trunks reached the battlefield in mere moments, stopping in the air above a plain of dirt and grass, a series of cliffs off to one side of it and a tournament stage in the middle.

In was upon that stage that his victim stood. Perfect Cell.

Across from him, a man he saw buried personally.

Son Gohan, stared up at him, wide eyed and still one armed, his hair yellow.

And Cell…

Trunks' lips curled into a sneer.

Cell thought it could _kill _him.

A growl escaped his throat and he threw himself forward, aura sparking and clawing wildly at the air around him. His feet hit the pavement of the stage and the concrete surface immediately cracked and wilted under his very presence, far too weak, too brittle to withstand the weight of his power.

And he surged forward, a man turned force of nature, until he reached Cell.

The monster.

The victim.

His first rocketed forward, missing only because the android stumbled backward, its eyes wide.

Trunks turned the jab into a backhand, which Cell swatted away. But his left fist lanced forward in the wake of the right's retreat. It landed cleanly in the monster's gut, doubling the bastard over. He thrust his knee up, then, and the android desperately threw himself to the side of the attack, lest his jaw be sundered into pieces.

Unphased, the Ascended Super Saiyan landed, turned on a single foot, and lashed out with a roundhouse kick that the monster was forced to accept on his forearm.

The blow, blocked as it was, still held sufficient power behind it to send the monster bouncing across the stage in the blur of green and white and navy blue.

Trunks followed, relentless as his intent and unforgiving as his rage.

Cell got a knee under itself, scowling fiercely, now, and charged an energy blast in its hand.

It was then that his lover made her entrance.

The undeniable power of a Super Saiyan heralded her entrance in a mass of thrashing yellow aura as she hurtled downward at the monster.

Her foot leg the charge.

The back of Cell's head, the target.

The attack impacted cleanly and the bio-android's face was _slammed _into the pavement, bouncing with the force of the impact. It got no respite, however, for Trunks reached him then and, with his left hand, pulled the bastard back to his feet. Unbalanced and dazed, it received another devastating punch to its gut even as 18 planted her feet and hurled her leg at the side of its head.

It hit. And Cell was tossed, boneless, to the other side of the platform once more.

Pavement quailed and yielded to his aura as he charged, his rage unsatisfied still, his intent unfulfilled.

The Ascended Super Saiyan _would not _be denied.

Cell threw himself out of the way of his dropkick and held his hands up in a guard.

"You! What are you-"

One jab, two, three, each fast enough to cause the air to _snap _and _crack_, impacted the thing's guard. The third broke it entirely. 18 reappeared, her own aura still strong, and flexed a single powerful leg to sweep the monster's feet from under it. It fell and Trunks delivered a punch to its shoulder, forcing its fall to become an impact strong enough to bounce it off the ground.

So he did it again.

And again the monster's body cratered the ground.

Again, the Ascended Super Saiyan punched him.

Then, 18 thrust both of her hands above her head, potent golden ki gathering quickly between her hands.

"Finish Buster!" She shouted, thrusting her hands into Cell's face.

And the power of a Super Saiyan followed in her wake. An eruption of golden, potent aura burned and seared and cauterized all at once. The monster screamed something, angry and desperate.

But then, Trunks planted his foot on the bio-android's gut, immediately pressing his weight down onto it. It struggled violently, fists punching, legs kicking, but it could do nothing.

And he grinned. He grinned _wide_. For this sight, this spectacle, of his lover releasing a blast of ki into the monster's face whilst he held it down with a _single _foot… this pleased him.

It was time for the bastard to learn its place.

"18!" He barked, waving her off. Her own golden aura was beginning to waver while his was still strong.

She nodded and, once she ended the blast and revealed the pitiful sight of the monster's face, Trunks grabbed its chin and lifted it back to its shaky feet.

* * *

_Android 18_

She jumped away from Cell, back toward the edge of the stage. Her eyes tracked her lover as she did, because she wasn't going to miss a single second of this. His fists flew nearly too fast for her to track and far too fast for her to react to. The monster's body was durable, but with how much of a jump they got on the asshole, it wasn't able to put up much of a fight.

Still, for every punch Saint Saiyan threw, Cell _was _able to block one in every three.

She scowled, hating her dependence on the golden aura flitting around her form still while at the same time reveling in the power it gave her.

If only _her _ki were so strong…

"What- Why are you here?"

18 glanced toward the voice, only to find the one armed man – Go… something or other – had joined her at the edge of the stage. And, behind him, she saw other people too. The spikey haired one she recognized as Saint Saiyan's father… but the bald one with three eyes, the black haired orange eyesore and the short bald one she had no recollection of.

She _did_, however, recognize the little pale skinned baby floating about the three-eyed one's head.

She was also able to place the Namekian of the group as just that, simply because he was the only green skinned fighter here.

Lots of glares on their faces, though, which meant they were probably her victims brought back to life by the dragon on New Namek.

'_Should've been stronger, then.'_

"To kill Cell," she vocalized, returning her eyes to the battle. None of them were strong enough to overpower her even before she started using Trunks' ki. Now?

Now, they stood no chance at all.

"I thought-" The one-armed one, his hair still obnoxiously yellow, muttered. "I thought you wanted to kill us…"

She scoffed even as Trunks landed a clean punch on the monster's chin, staggering it. Off-balance now, Cell was unable to dodge the ki blast that her lover pressed into its gut. Again, the thing was tossed across the stage.

"I'll only kill you if you get in my way," she assured the man.

Evidently it did not work.

"Why are you with Trunks? What's going on?" He insisted, stepping closer to her, his aura flaring. Behind him, the spikey haired one made his hair go all yellow too, though he was watching the battle rather than her. The forgettable ones were trying to look threatening behind Go… Goku?

No, no, that was the father. The one Gero hated. The one who died because his heart was weak.

"What's your name?" She asked, glancing toward him again as Cell managed to get its feet between itself and her lover, buying itself a moment to recover.

He blinked, his jaw working silently for a moment, then: "How do you not remember my name?! We fought for fifteen years!"

"I don't remember weaklings' names," she shrugged.

The guy growled, he might've been scowling, she was not sure… it wasn't like she was going to look at him. The fight was beginning to get good – Cell had managed to regain his footing and now almost managed to go blow for blow with Saint Saiyan. Maybe this would be interesting after all?

"Why are you with Trunks?!" The man demanded again.

"Yeah," the short, bald one said, far more quietly. "And… uh, why's he… I mean, how's he doing… that?"

18 ignored them, fed up with their questions and far beyond the limits of her patience. Friends of her lover or not, she was not here to entertain them. They _should _be doing what the spikey haired one was doing, watching the match.

'_Bulma's lover. Vege… Vegeto? No, no… Vegeta? Yeah. Yeah, that sounds right.'_

Vegeta. That guy was alright, in her books, for the time being. Unless he started talking to her.

A grunt from the fighting stage pulled her attention back to the action and her eyes narrowed when she saw that Trunks was the one being thrown across the stage this time. Cell did not follow in her lover's wake, however, instead taking the moment to plant his feet and try to regain his breath.

Saint Saiyan, on the other hand, landed near her and the weaklings, only slightly out of breath. He looked ready to dive back into the action, but if Cell was managing to keep pace with him…

"Saint!" She barked, what remained of her golden aura spitting and hissing about her.

Her words stopped him in his tracks and he glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes briefly flitting over the one-armed guy, then toward the forgettable weaklings and, lastly, toward Vegeta.

They widened and his aura fluctuated. The lightning thing wilted.

'_Uh oh.'_

She blasted forward, tossing dirt and debris away from her feet even as Cell did the same across the stage. 18 reached Trunks first, just as the lightning…

Just as the lightning vanished from his aura entirely.

'_Uh oh.'_

And then, Cell was upon them. She managed to thrust her arm between Trunks and its fist, redirecting the jam somewhere over Saint Saiyan's shoulder. She could do nothing to stop the knee from hitting her lover in the gut, though, and he crumpled over the blow with a _whoosh_ of forcibly expelled air. He was thrown off the stage.

Her intent, still ironclad and strong, maintained her hold on what remained of the golden aura about her.

But Cell's power was too much. Far, far too much.

Quick as lightning, he landed a cross on her jaw and her vision blurred, forced toward the ground. Then, something heavy and big impacted the open side of her torso and she was forced to cringe around the blow, awkward and falling to a knee. She never made it to the ground, though, for she saw only a flash of navy blue armor before Cell's leg impacted her face cleanly, shattering teeth and breaking her nose with a loud _crack_.

Then, _she _was the one flying out of the fighting stage.

* * *

_Trunks_

He hit the dirt, shocked and dazed and utterly unprepared to see his father alive and well once more. That Piccolo, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha and Chiaotzu lived as well only distracted him further.

He came to a stop and immediately lifted himself back onto his feet, trying and only partially succeeding at pushing away his surprise, desperate to regain that overpowering rage he needed to Ascend beyond the level of a Super Saiyan.

His intent remained strong.

But the rage was undone, utterly, by his father.

'_Shit.'_

18 was flying out of the fighting stage now, boneless and with a bloodied face.

And Cell-

A pale skinned fist flew toward his face and he only just managed to duck beneath it. A knee rose to meet him, but he had seen that trick before. Instead of throwing himself to the ground, this time he spun around it, ending up on Cell's over-extended side.

The monster's elbow flew at his face just as he set his feet to launch a jab, forcing him to abandon the attack and hop backward. The bio-android was relentless, however, and as soon as his feet touched the ground he was forced to jump away from a quickly summoned energy blast. His aura flickered and lashed and demanded he _attack_ his victim but the predator had become the prey, and he only just managed to jump away from another blast of energy, a follow-up attack.

He landed, chancing a glance at his group of recently-revived-friends-from-a-past-they-did-not-know.

Father and Gohan were no longer just watching, both of them were jumping into the fray and relief was quick to settle over his mind, tempered by the knowledge that, while both of them were capable of becoming a Super Saiyan, their power paled in comparison to his and Cell's and even 18's, _without _his aura aiding her. Speaking of the android, she was just regaining her feet, her face a bloody mess of teeth and broken nose.

Trunks returned to the battle at hand, finding that Cell had been delayed on its way to him by energy blasts from both Gohan and Father.

He was not about to waste the moment. It took time to Ascend beyond the level of a Super Saiyan, but the energy-intensive form of a Super Saiyan? That was easy for him to pull on.

His teeth grit and his aura flittered and welled up around him, raging and lashing out at the stage near to him.

Cell's eyes widened and he powered through Father, accepting a ki blast from Gohan in the process.

But it was already done.

A state of hyper-awareness reached him, his muscles bulged as his ki fed them directly. His power intensified and, though his aura lacked the signature lightning of an Ascended Super Saiyan, he still belted out a battle cry and met Cell's charge.

The monster was ready, and led with a jab, but Trunks ducked under it and delivered a punishing blow to the bio-android's already abused midsection. It heaved and its knee rose and he turned into the blow, accepting it on his shoulder. A cross impacted his chin-

His vision whitened at its edges and blurred, but he grit his teeth and lifted his head back in, just in time to see Cell bring clasped fists down from over his head. His eyes widened and he lifted his arms, but then Father reached the battle, shouting a battle cry as he lashed out with a heavy, heavy cross in his own empower Super Saiyan state, landing a clean blow on the monster's side.

It staggered and Gohan's leg connected with its head at the same time, allowing Trunks' punch to impact the other side of its face with an even heavier force behind it. Father then kneed the same side he punched moments ago and he joined in with a punch of his own, leaving the creature spitting up saliva and blood.

His former mentor landed on his feet and lashed out with his good arm, landing a blow on Cell's other side and disrupting entirely the jab it was sending toward Trunks' face. He responding by unleashing hell on its midsection, jab after jab after jab after empowered jab.

One jab.

Father reached up and decked the thing across its chin.

Two jabs.

Gohan spun on a heel and threw his leg at the monster's knee, resulting in a nice _crack_.

Three jabs.

Father intercepted a blow meant for Trunks' head, hooking his elbow with the creature's.

Four jabs.

His mentor delivered another kick to the bio-android's knee, bringing down to the ground.

His target changed, Trunks instead lashed out at the creature's jaw. A cross thundered forward, crackling with the beginnings of lightning-

Cell _roared _in rage and thrust his arms up. Energy blasted out from him in all directions, pushing him away physically the same way it did Father and Gohan.

Quickly, _very quickly_, the thing rose into the air.

Its hands came together in front of its forehead.

Trunks' eyes widened, reflexively.

'_No!'_

And, before he could shut his eyes. Before he could look away. Before he could break from his battle haze and recover enough awareness to realize he _could not look at this_…

Bright light emanated out from Cell. A blindingly bright light.

"Solar Flare!"

And his world turned white with blindness.

* * *

_18_

She heard the monster's words. It was an ability that she vaguely recognized, something one of her victims had said… Long, long ago. An ability she did not care to remember, evidently, for she could not recall what, exactly, it did.

18 did not remain ignorant for long.

"Look away!" The tiny bald one shouted, just as her sight was stolen from her by bright, bright, bright white light.

She groaned in dismay, immediately bringing up an arm to rub at her eyes. That did nothing, though, as though the blindingly intense light was stuck _behind _the skin covering her eyes.

And of course it was. She was blinded.

How frustrating.

A groan and a _whoosh _of air sounded from beside her then, in the direction of the forgettable bunch, like someone had just been punched in the gut. And that meant…

Dread overtook her and she began summoning up the last of her Super Saiyan aura.

For if one of those weaklings was being punched, that meant Cell did not, in fact, run away. That meant he was among the group standing just beyond the fighting stage.

And she could think of only one reason he would be over here.

Memories of 17 nearly getting absorbed into the monster flashed across her mind and, without any further hesitation, she launched herself up into the air-

A hand grasped her ankle and pulled her back down to the ground. Her body impacted the soil with punishing force and her head rocked back against it too. The blow dazed her and, alongside her blindness, she was left utterly defenseless.

"I will not-" A voice heaved above her, panting and gasping. "I will _not _be beaten by rabble!"

And then, something wet began encompassing her legs.

Her mind, dazed as it was, instantly placed her back on New Namek. At the beach. With Trunks. The ocean water-

But that couldn't be right. They were on Earth!

The constricting grip had made it up to her knees.

Fighting Cell. They were on Earth fighting Cell. Cell, who could absorb androids with his _disgusting _tail thing.

Up to her waist now.

Panic blossomed in her mind and her hands immediately dove down to the thing, to try and pull it away from her. It was slippery, though, and hard to grasp. One of her arms was immediately pulled in by it and she desperately lifted the other one up to her face, to rub at her eyes.

Her vision was only just returning.

"Trunks!" She cried, horrified and scared and what if her freedom would be gone? Would she be herself? Would she remember who she was and who Trunks was and_whatifthismonstermadeherforgeteverything-_

"_Trunks!" _She howled, heaving against the pressure that was up to her shoulders, now. She heard footsteps coming closer, plodding heavily across the ground.

"18!" Her lover shouted. "18! Where- I can't! Say something!"

"Trunks!" She sobbed, just as the pressure enveloped her mouth.

She could see blurry shapes now, but even that was stolen from her once Cell's tail covered her head.

* * *

_Trunks_

'_No. No, no, no, no, nononononono!'_

"Trunks!" She called again, her voice high pitched and fearful and _painfully _desperate.

He heard a half-suppressed sob, then, and growled deep in his throat. His eyes were only just beginning to return his sight to him. His lover, Android 18, was being absorbed by this _monster _and all he could do was stumble toward her voice blindly!

His feet clumsily stepped off of the fighting stage, a fact he only realized when the more malleable dirt supported his feet instead of solid concrete.

He blinked and – for a moment – his vision came into focus.

Teary eyed, he blinked again, and again, and again, and again, and desperately wiping the tears away from his eyes.

Finally, at long last, his vision returned to him.

Just in time to see 18's wide, panicked eyes vanish within Cell's tail. The bulge that was his lover made its way quickly up and into the… _monster's _torso. Its aura crackled and heaved and grew stronger, the product of his lover's strength.

Gone.

Vanished.

Lost.

Anger was quick, so very, very quick to return to him.

Fury mixed with agony mixed with loss and combined to form an emotion that words failed to describe.

This creature was going to _die_.

Trunks threw his head back to the heavens and _screamed_. He screamed and howled and raged and shouted at the injustice of the world. He seethed at his lover being taken from him. His aura rolled and thundered and snapped and lashed out at the ground around him, an agitated thing bet solely upon destruction.

For if he thought he knew anger when he lost the Earth…

Trunks never knew how the loss of 18 could hit him.

It was like a physical blow. One that brought tears to his eyes. One overwhelmed him entirely.

"_Raaaagh!" _He roared.

The power of the Super Saiyan roared back.

Pushed to the breaking point, forced to ascend into something greater than its sum. The ground itself fled from his presence, dirt and stone and soil disintegrating under the force, the power, the sheer, overwhelming pressure of his Ascended aura.

Lightning crackled. His hair lengthened and grew more brittle. His teal eyes narrowed and bulged all at once.

And the Ascended Super Saiyan appeared upon Earth once more.

And, this time, about the edges of his aura, lightning began to solidify into bright blue light. Solid. Everlasting. Never crackling then disappearing. The lightning became a constant thing shrouding his ki.

His muscles bulged even further. His pupils dilated. His boots cratered the ground around them when he landed on the fighting stage.

"_Cell!" _He roared, mindless rage and agony and vengeance powering him. _"CELL!"_

One word. One purpose.

A victim, he knew.

A corpse, he must make.

"_CELL!" _He howled, pushing off the ground and leaving behind only the shattered stone of the stage. _"18!"_

He reached the monster and swung a heavy fist at its jaw. It ducked under the blow and instead returned with a jab of its own.

Trunks accepted the blow on his side. The pain was fleeting. Temporary. The pain fed his rage to new levels. His own arm thrust forward and plunged _into _the creature's shoulder, sundering bone and skin and muscle to grasp at the innards of the thing itself. Its left arm was made useless, dangling lifelessly from its body.

His own left arm then rocketed forward and planted a fist in the monster's gut, even as Cell's free hand impacted his chin. His vision blurred but the agony of a broken jaw over enraged him further.

His fist met flesh, again.

Cell doubled over and lashed out with his own punch at Trunks' midsection.

The blow landed, powerful and heavy and punishing, but he ignored it through sheer strength of will alone. Instead, he pulled the monster up again by way of his grip on its shattered shoulder. Then, he delivered another devastating blow to its gut.

It doubled over again.

He pulled it up again.

This time, he thrust his face in front of the monster's.

"_18!" _He roared, spittle and blood flying together from his mouth. _"Give me 18!"_

Another punch to the gut.

This time, he accepted a knee to his side.

He pulled the monster up, again, his aura sundering the tiles around them and still glowing that fierce blue around its edges.

"_18!" _He roared, planting his feet and throwing his weight behind the next jab.

This time, he felt something _crunch _within the monster. This time, when Cell doubled over, his chest bulged and his throat expanded grotesquely.

Trunks pulled him up again.

And again, unleashed a blow on his midsection.

Cell heaved and shook, the bulge in his throat exiting through his mouth. A body was spat up on the fighting stage.

But it was not 18. It was black haired, with torn jeans and a torn white undershirt.

His rage, simmering below the surfacing, surged to the front of his thoughts again.

His will be done. His intent, fulfilled. His anger, satisfied.

"_18!"_

Another uppercut to the body, one he threw the entirety of his weight behind. This time, the blow was laced with so much ki, the ground _behind _Cell cratered and cracked and fled from his power in a cone.

And this time, the monster threw up another body, _immediately_.

A vest, white hair and green trousers.

Not 18.

And another.

Pale skin, shirtless, a black braid.

Not 18.

And even futher, another.

Short, purple skinned, giant green hat.

_Not 18._

He bellowed in wordless rage this time, beyond even the ability to put thoughts together. His lover. 18. His android. She was _in _there and he needed her _out_.

His left foot slid backward, the support his fist needed. He threw his weight forward, the force behind the blow.

And his fist rumbled and shook with the power behind it, glowing yellow and blue. He and Cell sunk into a crater of his aura's making, the stage's concrete unable, utterly, to withstand his power.

The fist connected. The blow was made.

And this time, the monster regurgitated a blonde woman, wearing the Chinese dress she so loved. With what she dubbed 'stretchy pants' on her legs, a compression top under her dress and athletic shoes on her feet.

His lover.

His rage, simmering and frothing, turned his attention to the monster in his grasp.

It was back in its first form, now. Lanky and orange and green and _disgustingly _weak.

Using the hand he still had buried in its shoulder, he pulled the corpse up to him, face to face.

Then, he lifted them both into the air. Yellow and blue aura sparking and crackling around them both. Around this monster that _dared _fight back. Around this creature that _dared _oppose his will.

Then, when they were high enough up in the air, he looked into the being's eyes.

A beat of silence passed between them, a resigned stillness suffusing the creature.

Then, Trunks whispered two words:

"Heat Dome."

The hand in the creature's shoulder rocketed upward and the corpse-to-be was thrown high, into the sky, above him. Dazed and weakened from losing so much power, it flopped bonelessly until it reached the apex of its journey.

Trunks lifted both of his hands up above him, toward the monster. His aura convulsed and surged about him, gathering in a storm of violent yellow-blue energy. The power of an Ascended Super Saiyan converged and waited to be released.

And, as the monster was just beginning its fall back down to the Earth, he let loose his fury.

His anger, his rage, his towering wrath. The Ascended Super Saiyan _would not _be challenged. He would not allow his loved ones to come to danger. He would not allow 18 to ever be killed.

This monster, this corpse, this thing that would no longer exist, needed to learn that.

The storm of ki blasted upward in a display of raw might so powerful it weighed heavily upon the shoulders of all souls nearby. The crackling wave of blue and yellow power impacted the creature and, in an instant, it was gone.

Obliterated.

Down to its every last cell.

Trunks, the Ascended Super Saiyan, stared at the spot his victim used to be, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed.

And, when not a speck of the creature remained, he released a heavy, heavy breath. His rage, potent and enduring, faded. His power, that of the Ascended Super Saiyan, left him.

Agony was quick to embrace him.

His left side seized up. The pounding in his head grew intolerable and his vision rolled. His left hip ached. His jaw was unresponsive. His right shoulder felt like mush. His midsection felt like someone took a blender to his innards.

Trunks convulsed in mid-air, let out a breathless gasp, and began falling back to the ground.

* * *

_18_

She woke slowly, as though from a dream difficult to shake. Vision blurred, ears plagued by a constant ringing and sound otherwise muted. She was lying down on… something, something soft and… green? Grass?

Her eyes fluttered open, trying and failing to focus, even as the ground shook and shuddered under her all of the sudden. The force of the movement rocked her body from side to side and she became aware then that she was covered, head to toe, in some sort of liquid.

Water?

Another tremor shook the ground and she blinked furiously, slowly becoming aware that the shaking meant nothing good. Her mind was as sluggish as her body felt, though, and for the life of her, she could not remember what she was doing.

Hands grabbed at her suddenly and she groaned – or at least she thought she did, her hearing was still muted.

A voice answered her, high pitched and speaking quickly. She could not understand the words and the suddenly jostling the hands were putting her through made her head throb.

18 groaned again, screwing her eyes shut, only to feel the ground shake and shudder and a weight land on top of her gut. She heaved, suddenly very, _very _nauseous, but contained herself before she threw up the food she only very recently began eating.

That thought returned to her memories of the beach on New Namek, time spent with Saint Saiyan amongst the waves and on the beach itself. Pleasant times, a respite from the destruction of the Earth and the threat of Cell looming over their heads.

'_Cell… We were…'_

Struggling, she recalled returning to Earth and… and going to hunt the monster down. Then, just anger and fear and rage. Vague emotions with no substance to them.

The ground shook again.

The hands returned and so too did the voice.

"-teen!" It slipped out of focus. "-go, now! Please, please, _please_-" Another bout of ringing invaded her ears. "-not moving, guys. We gotta-"

She remembered people, now, weaklings… There was Saint and Cell, they were fighting, she was fighting too. And the one-armed one was there, back from the dead, just like-

Just like the rest of the weaklings she and 17 killed!

"Ugh," she grunted, heaving herself up onto her hands and knees. That she heard her voice at all was a good sign, though the sound was still muted. There was slime on her hands and her vision focused just enough for her to recognize it as the same gunk that was on 17, on that island, so long ago.

And that meant Cell absorbed her.

A grimace worked its way onto her face even as she leveraged herself up to leaning on a knee. That Cell took her into his body, made her power his own… That was a violation that left her feeling disgusting. It stole her strength from her and took her freedom. And for what? Because it decided it wanted her strength? Because…

Because it was stronger.

18 spat a glob of mucus and slime on the ground.

When Saint Saiyan took her captive, he robbed her of her freedom as well. He kept her captive inside a cage of her own making and humiliated her utterly and completely.

As it turned out, her ego needed a… _nudge _in the right direction, because the weaklings could be useful after all.

But when Cell robbed her of her freedom… it ended her existence. It stole her power, her body, her… her everything! And it made all of that its own.

What a piece of shit.

But if she was out here, again, then that meant Trunks kicked that monster's ass. Good. It was nice to know he was there for her, ready to get her out of a mess if she needed it.

The dirt and grass under her feet shook once more as she finally, finally made it to her feet. The world swayed and blurred for a moment once she was up but she held strong and steady.

18 found herself in front of the fighting stage that rat bastard, soul-sucking piece of shit bio-android built. It was completely wrecked, more rubble than surface now, but it was there all the same. The cliff faces were off to her left.

The three-eyed weakling and the pale baby were on the ground, face down and unmoving just ahead of her. Further in the distance, she saw a Super Saiyan Vegeta fighting with a purple skinned guy in a big green, ridiculous-looking hat. They looked about evenly matched, so she continued looking around and eventually found Trunks' one-armed friend fighting a big grey-skinned guy with a braid, also evenly-matched.

The blonde android continued turning in a circle, slowly becoming aware of sounds that she previously could not hear. Shouts of exertion, ki blasts exploding and-

"Keep pressure on it! Keep- I know just- Just-"

And Trunks, on the ground, bleeding heavily. The bald orange eyesore and the black-haired orange eyesore were hovering over him, hands pressing torn bits of shirts and cloth to wounds.

Too much blood, too much red, too many bruises.

She blasted off of the ground-

And immediately had to stop when a ki blast impacted the dirt in front of her. Colorless ki. Energy she could not sense.

"18," her brother's voice said, above and behind her. "Long time no see, sis."

Her fingers clenched themselves into fists, knowing full well that she could not ignore the bastard. Not while those weaklings were her only allies and with Trunks down and out.

Laboriously, she pulled her eyes away from her lover.

17 looked like shit. Shirtless, jeans torn below the knee on one leg, his boots in tatters. Next to him was a guy wearing a vest and a hat, under which grey-hair lay.

'_The guy in a vest that Cell absorbed. An android…'_

"17! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"This is our playground, 18!" He called back, grinning. "No one can stop us now! Not even that kid!"

It was hard to hear him over the panicked voices behind her. Harder still because she _did not _want to deal with him. Not now, not ever.

"Yamcha, Yamcha, on his side! Get his-"

"17, if you don't let me take care of Trunks-"

"Forget the kid, 18!" The black haired android yelled back, scowling fiercely. In the distance behind him, the little purple-skinned one was sent flying by a kick from Vegeta. "He's dead anyway!"

She did not want to forget. She did not want to lose him.

And that put her in direct conflict with her brother, the selfish asshole.

Thus, the question became whether she cared more for Trunks or 17.

And that was an _easy _question to answer.

An energy blast erupted in the distance and a glint of reflective metal caught her eye on the ground – Trunks' sword, without its sheathe. She picked it up, an odd sort of poetic justice flitting through her mind.

"Keep pressure on them. I'm going to get more cloth!"

17 had to die.

Ground crumbled and dirt flew up in a cloud of dust, disturbed when she launched herself off of the ground.

She led with a slash that was meant to be more controlled, but the sword's weight and the motions required of her left it an attack easy for 17 to avoid. He did so and she wasted no time in firing off a quick blast of energy at his shocked, stupid face. The wide eyed look of surprise vanished behind the light of an explosion and 18 took the opportunity to swing Saint Saiyan's sword again.

This time, she heard her brother yelp and the steel of the blade came away red with blood.

The blonde android ducked low when her brother tried the same thing on her, the energy blast to the face, which sent the attack wide over her shoulder. She lifted a leg up-

A fist landed in her gut, courtesy of the vest-wearing asshat she'd been ignoring until that very moment.

Two androids got to die today.

Fine.

She spat a glob of blood and mucus out from her ruined mouth and swiped the sword at her newer opponent while at the same time moving to place him between herself and her brother. The ploy worked and, while the unfamiliar android dodged her attack, her brother wasted precious seconds moving into range.

Alone with the grey-haired android for the time being, 18 tossed the blade in her hands up, into the air, and lashed out with a cross that landed cleanly on the old bastard's chin. An elbow nailed him in the center of his stupid face next and something _crunched_.

She grinned a toothless grin even as 17 tried to bull rush her, arms spread wide.

"18! You idiot! We-"

Whatever he was going to say next would remain unknown, courtesy of the knee she threw up into his face.

The idiot ran right into it.

Honestly.

Her brother shouted, enraged, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned back to the vest-wearing dickhead, without him, Cell never would have become Perfect Cell. The Earth never would have been destroyed. Trunks never would have Ascended and she never would have learned to use the power of a Super Saiyan.

"You know," she grunted, easily outpacing the inferior model with a feint followed by another cross. "I should be thanking you, asshole."

18 swung her leg out and caught the nameless android's feet, sending him rotating in mid air, just enough for her to lift both of her fists over her head and land a devastating blow on the back of his head.

He fell, limp and dazed, to the Earth.

"So thanks!" She called after him, glancing upward, only to find that she had another few seconds before Trunks' sword made it down to her again.

So, she turned to her brother, idly floating herself underneath the path of the blade.

"You're weak as shit, brother."

"Traitor," he growled, one hand remaining on his nose. It was bloodied. "This world is _ours'_ for the taking, 18! Ours'!"

"It was," she allowed. "Not anymore."

The black-haired android's eyes widened. "I- What did they do to you?! What happened to our playground?! I don't even recognize you anymore!"

The sword finally reached her; she caught it cleanly with a hand.

Then, she returned her gaze to her brother, pointing the steel weapon at his torso.

"Bitch," the blonde said around a bloody grin. "I'm Android 18. And I've got nothing left to say to you."

Her brother's jaw flapped open and, as close as she was, it proved to be his last mistake.

18 hurtled forward, endurance honed in the gravity chamber, power tempered by training with Saint, speed gained through sheer will and effort. The world blurred around her, moving entirely too fast even for her enhanced sight to keep up with, and refocused an instant later.

Her vision was now filled with her brother's stupid, shocked face.

Courtesy of the blade she'd put through his torso.

"I-I-…" He stammered, looking down at the weapon with only his eyes. One hand remained frozen over his nose, the other was fisted at his side. "Wh… Huh?"

She watched his eyes flicker, watched the awareness drain from them, watched his limbs fall slack to his sides.

Then, she released Saint's sword and watched still as her brother plummeted to the ground below, lifeless and beaten. Still sure humanity had nothing to offer him. Still intent on murdering and killing and destroying. Still as ignorant as she was, once.

She said nothing.

A stillness settled over the area as the black-haired android completed his fall with a loud _thud_. Vegeta and the stupid-looking purple thing were watching her. Go-whatever was too. The vest-wearing android was scowling at her.

_Everyone _was acknowledging her, looking at her, judging her, weighing her strength. And _damn _if that didn't feel good.

These weren't her victims, not all of them, some were allies. Allies that now knew her power, her skill. Allies – humans, some of them – that appreciated what she could do.

Sort of like Trunks' autographs.

Another toothless grin touched her lips.

And then, Android 17's body exploded in a fiery ball of red-hot death and searing fire.

She glanced toward Saint Saiyan, to make sure he was still among the living. His ki still touched her senses and, though it was weakened, it remained strong.

Satisfied and, still high on her power, she _moved_.

Her surroundings rushed by her as she plummeted toward the ground at breakneck speeds. A precisely executed twist in midair put her in front of the weird purple android with the hat.

Given it was wearing sunglasses, she could not confirm if the dead-things eyes widened.

'_Oh well.'_

Her muscles flexed and one of her legs lunged toward the thing's head. The flat-footed roundhouse kick impacted her target with explosive power and, as it was sent tumbling bonelessly across the grassy plains, she put her hands together on her side.

Time to give dear-old-dad another reason to watch her.

Colorless ki infused with what little remained of Trunks' gathered in her hands quickly.

Vegeta released a muted gasp behind her.

"Galick Gun!" She howled, throwing her hands forward to unleash a storm of energy. Energy that quickly engulfed the stupid-looking android utterly and completely, blowing it apart in a rain of scrap and broken metal.

A catharsis familiar to her spread through her body, because she'd been in this position before, this role of destroyer. 18 knew what it was to overpower utterly and completely her victims; the heady, potent ecstasy of simply being _better _than another being.

This was that feeling.

But this time… This time it was better. Before she only shared that feeling with her brother and only because he was just as strong as she was.

But now… Now she had _allies _to share it with.

Her grin widened and she lifted a single hand toward the android with a braid.

Because what better way to share catharsis than with a game?

"Dodge." She said.

And a storm of energy blasts erupted from her palm, toward the grey-skinned android.

To the thing's credit, it remained stoic even as it shot into the air, away from Trunks' one-armed friend. Her prey made for the bluffs nearby instantly, well aware that they would offer him a spot to hide from her.

'_Fool.'_

18 rose into the air too, one hand maintaining the endless barrage of energy blasts whilst the other tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Her attacks never quite hit her target dead on; the lethal ki clipped him, some landed as glancing blows, but her prey was wily enough to avoid having his head taken off for the time being.

The blonde began to float forward, just as the android reached the bluffs and disappeared into their embrace.

She scoffed and cut off the energy blasts.

A different game could be played, then.

One of hide and seek. Humans weren't very good at it, but androids' had undetectable ki. Maybe this one would prove a worthy target.

"Where did you learn that attack?"

Vegeta.

He blasted off the ground and leveled out in the air with her, floating idly toward the cliffs and bluffs at the same speed she was.

"Trunks," she said, simply.

The Prince of All Saiyans glanced down toward the ground at that, where Trunks was sitting upright against the base of a tree. Makeshift bandages made from shirts and pants covered most of his body and, if 18 had not noticed the conspicuous absence of the Namekian, she might've worried about him.

Still… best to check.

Time was not of the essence anymore, after all.

"The Namekian, where is he?"

Vegeta returned his attention to her just as Go-whatever floated up to join them.

"The Namekian went to find my wife," the spikey-haired Saiyan growled.

The one-armed one nodded, on her other side. "Bulma should have some beans on hand for him," he said, quietly. For all that his demeanor seemed agreeable, his eyes were still narrowed ever-so-slightly, probably in suspicion.

Some amount of indignation entered her at that, for if not for her strength, the man would no doubt be dead.

Again.

"You're welcome, by the way," she said, grinning the same bloody, toothless grin. "For getting rid of my brother."

Vegeta only grunted.

"You're really on our side, now? Just like that?" The one-armed one put himself in front of her, between her and her newest target. "After… After, what? Two decades? You just kill and slaughter and-"

"Yeah," she grunted, darting around the man with a burst of speed that he failed to match. She ended up behind him, rather easily. "Just like that."

That was not the full truth, of course, but she did not care to explain herself to the weakling. The truth involved time, feelings, time, a lot of patience, time, plenty of hatred, time, a few special humans and time. The truth was for her and Trunks to know. No one else.

A hand landed on her shoulder, arresting her momentum entirely.

She was just about to the bluffs, now.

"That's not good enough, 18," the annoying one said, his voice firm, just like it used to be when he demanded she and her brother stop exploring their playground.

Before he died, of course.

Before she decided she did not want to make the world into her playground anymore.

"They might've been brought back to life, but the trauma you caused millions of people on this planet can't just be forgotten! You put us through two decades of suffering, of fear, and for what?! Your own selfishness!"

This was Trunks' friend. Trunks would be mad if she harmed him.

The hand on her shoulder tightened and she found herself whirled around to face the one-armed one.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Say something, 18! You can't just expect everyone to forget what you and your brother did."

Trunks' friend. His mentor.

She swallowed heavily, her breathing sped up of its own accord.

He had a right to be angry. He did. Because she knew what it meant to lose people important to her now. She knew loss. She knew all that.

But damn if she did not care one single whit about _his _loss. She only cared about her own.

And that was not going to change. Not easily. Not instantly. The only reason this fool was still breathing was because she cared enough about Trunks to stay her own hand.

"You'll do time," the fool muttered, his hand still on her shoulder. "You have to do time or spend the rest of your life fixing this planet or… or… _something! _What you did… You might've turned a new leaf, but that doesn't make slaughtering so many people right!"

"I'll make you," she licked her lips. "I'll make you a… compromise, fool. You let go of my shoulder, _now_, and I don't kill you. Deal?"

The man's eyes widened. "How are you not… I don't get it. I don't you… You come help Trunks put down Cell-"

"He wanted to absorb me."

"-and then murder your own brother!"

"He wanted to kill Trunks."

"And then defeat an android – just like you – who was attacking us!"

"He was annoying me. Those color shades don't belong anywhere near each other."

The one-armed man shook his head, his hand _still _on her shoulder. "I-I don't get it."

"Fine," 18 grunted. "Don't. Get your hand off my shoulder or lose it."

Finally, blessedly, the idiot released her. Immediately, she turned back toward the bluffs.

And surprise, surprise, her prey was standing atop one of the plateaus. He looked rough, his skin scuffed and bruised and parts of his clothing torn but in one piece and able-bodied all the same.

More importantly, he had his hands on the shoulders of a human standing in front of him. Said human looked absolutely terrified – 18 would know – and was dressed in a nice looking suit with a microphone in his hand.

'_A newscaster,' _she recognized easily enough, her time spent in Saint Saiyan's home having adapted her to human customs enough to recognize the man for what he was.

The android lifted one of his hands to the human's head, colorless ki gathering in his palm. He then lifted himself – and the human, with a bone-crunching grip on his shoulder – into the air and began floating backwards.

No words were spoken.

No threats conveyed.

But the meaning behind the actions was clear enough – let him go or the human dies.

'_Honestly…'_

"Of all the conniving things to do," one-arm muttered at her side, evidently sufficiently distracted by the hostage situation in front of him to forget about asking her all those annoying questions.

"To hide behind a hostage is not a warrior's way," Vegeta opined from her other side.

One-arm huffed, frustrated, if the scowl on his face was anything to go by. "We have to do something, we can't just let him get away – that man will die!"

18 shrugged. "Yeah, he will. If you'd have let me go, maybe he would have lived."

That said, she turned away, wasting no time in blasting off toward the tree under which Trunks rested.

One-arm shouted something at her back as she left the bluffs but she ignored the fool, content to let him clean up his own mess, this time.

"18," Saint murmured, one eye drooping, as she reached him.

"Saint," she greeted him, glancing over him once, twice, three times before she was satisfied that any blood on his body was dried and not freshly spilt. "You look like shit."

He laughed weakly and it quickly devolved into a coughing fit. "Yeah- erm, ugh… Yeah. Well, Cell absorbed you and I went… ballistic."

18 scowled at the reminder and opened her mouth.

But, evidently, the bio-android's demise was enough to prod one of the orange eye-sores nearby into speaking. "It was incredible!" The bald one exclaimed. "Your aura went all yellow _and _blue and just… wow!"

The other one, with hair, nodded enthusiastically. "That was some crazy stuff! Like, even better than me, and that's not a compliment I hand out lightly, Trunks! You should be proud."

Her scowl curled into a sneer and her mouth opened again.

But this time Saint Saiyan beat her to it.

"Thanks, Yamcha, Krillin. It's good to see you guys again."

"Huh? You were just a baby when we, uh… Well-"

"When you weaklings died," the blonde supplied, sneer still in place. "18 years ago."

The bald one froze, as if he just remembered she was there, whilst the one with hair laughed awkwardly and not-so-subtly tried to put baldy between himself and her.

She rolled her eyes.

Just as an explosion suddenly broke the relative quiet of the grasslands.

18 turned her attention back to the bluffs, to find that the android with the braid had been destroyed, but not by One-Arm or Vegeta.

No… by his vest-wearing buddy.

She blinked.

"Well then," she murmured, watching as the android exchanged words with the two saiyans in the air. Both of them were uncomfortable, she could tell that easily, given how many times she fought one of them over the years.

"Did he just…"

"Yeah," the bald one said, nodding to his fellow eyesore. His eyes narrowed and glanced about the area, over the ruined fighting stage, the still-smoking crater that held her brother's body, the partially destroyed bluffs, and widened moments later.

"Hey, Yamcha? It looks like another fight's about to break out… We need to get Tien and Chiaotzu's bodies some place safe, you know?"

The taller eyesore scowled and clenched his fists even as, just as baldy predicted, a fight broke out between the two saiyans and the vest-wearing android. With a wary glance in her direction, the pair of humans made themselves scarce even as energy blasts began to erupt on the ground nearby.

Collateral from the fight going on over the bluffs.

18 sighed, eyeing the deadly energy as stray blasts from a barrage Vegeta unleashed got dangerously close to Trunks' tree.

"We can't move you easily," she murmured, her eyes darting across his body one last time. If he were to get hit by something in that state… "I'll stay here and guard you."

"My knight in shining armor," he muttered, a toothy grin offered up to her.

The gesture pulled the sneer right off her lips and replaced it instead with a small smile.

Then… the air stilled.

It had been filled with fluctuating ki and wild energy in the midst of the battle between the android and the two saiyans. Now… now it was idle, as though no battle were going on overhead, as though this day were a normal, peaceful afternoon among the grasslands.

Eyes narrowed, 18 turned back to the fight.

The vest-wearing android was gathering energy, she could tell that easily, even if she could not feel it. His arms were coiled and clenched at his sides, his face a rictus of such intense focus that she thought he might rupture a blood vessel.

The two saiyans hovered, antsy and off-balance in the air nearby. They watched the android like a pair of hawks, wary enough to keep from approaching – because it could match them both one-on-one – yet confident enough to hold their ground while they waited.

But they did not have to wait long.

Parts, bits of metal and plastic, from the two destroyed androids began to be pulled toward the vest-wearing android as though under the effect of a super powerful magnet. They slid across the ground and were pulled into the air, desperately trying to reach the straining man in the distance. And when they reached him - for the pieces were too small, too numerous and too fast for the saiyans to intercept – they were promptly absorbed into the machine's skin.

18 blinked, weary and wary and annoyed all at once.

Because that effect reminded her too much of Cell, like a prototype version of that damnable bio-android.

And, sure enough, the vest-wearing android… changed when he absorbed his fallen comrades.

His skin turned blue. His hair, orange. His muscle bulged grotesquely and he grew in height and width so much that the vest was torn clear off his chest. His boots and pants strained to contain his body and his eyes began glowing a sinister red. Silver plating covered parts of his chest, too, like it was armor of some kind.

"Fucking Dr. Gero," she spat, under her breath.

She heard Trunks swallow heavily behind her. "He does seem to keep plaguing us, huh?"

"Even beyond the grave," she agreed. "Two decades later and that bastard won't quit meddling."

Saint laughed weakly behind, a watery sort of sound that she _did not _like hearing come from him. "Right. But… just one more."

"Hmm?" She grunted, watching as the blue-skinned android began laying into One-Arm and Vegeta. Neither of them were any sort of match for the powered-up machine.

"One more enemy…" His voice was strained, now. "One more… And we'll have peace, 18. We'.. – a cough – we'll be able to live together."

"Trunks?" The blonde asked, glanced back over her shoulder at him.

He laughed again, the same off-putting sound. "I'm dying, 18."

Her eyes widened and she spun fully this time, dropping to a knee in front of him. "You don't get to die, Saint! Not until I put you in a gravity chamber, remember?"

"Right," he said, a bark of laughter escaping him. "That's right…"

"Right," she agreed, shaking her head to dislodge the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Right?"

He sighed and shut his eyes.

"Trunks?" She waited one second, two, three, then four and a fifth too. "…Saint?"

"The purpose… to ascend," he said, struggling with every word now. Blood leaked anew from his lips and his eyes were beginning to bulge in their sockets. His fingers were twitching, spasming, at his sides. "Do you remember, 18?"

"T-Trunks, I-" An explosion rocked the ground and a shout of frustration erupted somewhere behind her. "You don't get to die, remember? Remember?!"

Her lips quivered and she pressed her forehead against his.

"Not till I- Not ever. Not ever, Saint!"

"18," the man murmured under her. His body was beginning to sag under its own weight. "Love you…"

She choked when she tried to say his name next and leaned back, away from him.

His chin dropped onto his chest.

A sob tried to force its way out of her throat, but she swallowed it.

For Saint Saiyan was still breathing, she _knew _that, but given how limp he-

Abruptly, suddenly enough to startle her into falling onto her backside, Trunks threw his head back against the tree's bark. His bulging, bloodshot eyes glared up at the leaves above him. His muscles went from limp to tense in moments.

And the power of a Super Saiyan flooded the area about them.

"Now, 18," he spat, blood and spittle flying from his lips. His chest heaved and, when he swallowed, she could see if throat working furiously to keep his head upright. "Quickly. I don't-" A cough, bloody, interrupted him. "Not much time!"

She shook her head, unable and unwilling to believe that he…

He couldn't!

"Trunks, you're going to be fine. Your mother is on her way-"

"Ascend," he pleaded with her, those bloodshot eyes locking onto her own. Those eyes, those teal eyes… they were desperate.

18 got to add desperation to the range of emotions she saw appear on a Super Saiyan that day, though she wished did not.

She sniffled and, when the ground shook about them and leaves dislodged from the tree overhead fell around their heads, extended her right hand.

Her palm landed on his cheek.

"I love you, Trunks," she said, quietly, tears running freely down her cheeks.

But the man was beyond words, then, too weakened to speak. Too strained by maintaining the form of a Super Saiyan to have the energy to converse.

The man she loved, in such a pitiful state.

A new purpose bloomed in her mind. A new intent.

A new reason to ascend.

Never, ever, ever again would she see someone so precious to her suffer like this.

18 chose, on that day, to protect.

Golden, potent power flooded her veins and the aura about her began whipping up a storm of energy even as it turned from a colorless white to a vibrant yellow. Her muscles bulged, her eyes narrowed, her ruined face contorted into a rictus of pain, intent and purpose.

The influx of power lasted perhaps fifteen seconds before Saint Saiyan could withstand the draw no longer.

Boneless, his body slumped to the ground beneath the tree.

* * *

**A/N: **Sooooooo, yeah. This was supposed to be the last chapter before the (2-3) epilogues but it ended up getting away from me and ballooned into 12k words before I could stop it, so the _next _chapter will be the last before our ending begins. That'll be posted on **06/01/2019**, the same day I go to see the Blues play the Bruins! LGB!

How many of you saw the revives coming? Vegeta, Gohan, Krillin, Piccolo, et al? Be honest!

There's some wiggle room with just what the Dragon Balls can accomplish. Earth's Shenron can only mass-revive people a year back, but New Namek's Porunga is – I think – a great bit stronger than pre-Dende Shenron. Thus, I extended that time limit back to a couple decades. The one wish limit still applies but since Bulma probably worded it as 'revive everyone on Earth' and the Dragon Ball dragons interpret wishes with the best of intentions, I figured I could swing the Z-Fighters returning.

Also, I'd like to poll the numbers, so to speak. **Do you lot like how I write fight scenes? **At times I catch myself getting too wordy and then I start second guessing myself for the rest of the scenes in the chapter too. Wordy is fine for description but sometimes I feel like fight scenes should be straight and direct. What do you think? I'd like to know.

As a side note, referring to Cell as 'It' was the worst decision I've ever made. I keep typing 'he' then having to go back and correct it. The designation was originally meant to show just how much of a monster 18 and Trunks think Cell is… I think it accomplishes that well, but damn if it isn't a pain to stay consistent with. At least now I won't have to worry about it anymore, hah.

**Trunks (Rage Mode)**

Base Power: 5

Super Saiyan: 10 (15)

Super Saiyan 2: 20 (30)

**Android 18**

Base Power: 5

Super Saiyan: 10

**Android 17**

Base Power: 5

**Vegeta**

Base Power: 2

Super Saiyan: 4

**Gohan**

Base Power: 2

Super Saiyan: 4

**Piccolo**

Base Power: 3

'**The forgettables'**

Base Power: 1

**Perfect Cell**

Base Power (with 17): 20

With Android 18: 25

**Android 13**

Base Power: 4

Super Android: 8

**Android 14**

Base Power: 3

**Android 15**

Base Power: 3

Till next time!

-Phailen


	8. Chapter 8

_**This work of fanfiction assumes a basic knowledge of Dragon Ball Z.**_

* * *

_Android 18_

Power swirled and surged around her even as the last wisps of it drifted away from Saint Saiyan's body.

_Body_.

What an ugly word.

Her carefully maintained intent wavered at the thought, the thought of her lover, lifeless on the ground, never to-

18 sucked in a breath, narrowed her eyes and dispelled those thoughts as best she could. Banished them from her mind and focused only on her goal, on her intent.

To protect the people for whom she cared.

Forever.

Never again would-

A grimace touched her ruined face.

Never again would she fail.

She lifted herself up into the air and turned to face the big blue android just in time to see it break Vegeta's back over its knee. One of the Saiyan's arms was clearly dislocated… He was in a bad way. One-Arm was in a similar state, having lost his _other _arm this time. This was a foe that did not play around with them, as Cell must have.

This foe meant to kill, simple and the point.

18 could appreciate that.

"Ready, Android?" She called once she leveled with it in the air. "Ready to see how outclassed you are by my lover? By me?"

The thing scowled. "I feel _good_. Too good! You can't beat me now, little lady. Too late!"

He laughed, a deep, slow, drawling thing. Hard enough that he threw his head back and looked up to the skies above.

Big mistake.

18 hurtled forward, her power, Saint Saiyan's power, whipping up in a frenzy about her. And, since the ki around her was Saiyan, it was detectable. It was only that fact that clued the blue android in to her approach.

The big man looked down at her, eyes narrowed, just in time to hastily dodge a knee to the face.

The blonde android quickly released a burst of ki and redirected her momentum mid-attack, turning the missed knee into a haphazard kick that landed on the android's neck. The blow staggered him, so she lashed out with a fist and landed a cross on his jaw.

"How's it feel?" She wondered, a wide sneer on her face, even as she dropped down to his feet and grabbed one of his massive boots. Without delay, she tossed the larger android bodily into the bluffs beneath her.

"How's it feel to be so outclassed?!" 18 howled, rocketing down after her victim. Thoughts of games were gone from her mind. Only intent remained, her purpose, ironclad and undeniable.

The blonde landed on her feet in between two large slabs of rock, just in front of the blue android. She bounced off the ground and landed in a knee in his gut that picked him up off his feet, then an over headed blow to his back, a kick to his side and a punch to his midsection.

He was knocked back into the rocky walls around them, but she allowed him no reprieve.

Before he hit the ground, she caught his chin with an upper cut. Her foot hit the side of his head as it was lifted upward and launched him clear of the bluffs entirely. A barrage of energy blasts, fired as she approached, put him further into the ground and a knee to his gut made the big bastard curl into himself around the blow.

To end the flurry, she plunged her hand fully into his mouth and grabbed his jaw.

Then, with her other hand pressed into his chest, she bodily lifted him over her head and released a powerful burst of ki.

The blue android yelled, caught between the ki blast forcing him upward and the hand locked around his jaw. He bit and struggled and flailed, becoming more and more panicked with every passing second, but 18's strength was superior. Her ki was superior.

_She _was superior.

And, in the end, _something _had to give.

That something just so happened to be his jaw.

With a heave and a shout of exertion, 18 pulled her arm down and lifted the hand firing the ki up. The blue android's body, a thing of strong metals and powerful ki, held for just a moment.

But only a moment.

With a sickening crunch and a screech of ruptured metal, the man's jaw was torn from his head.

18 dropped the ruined bits of metal and cracked her knuckles idly even as the built up ki carried the massive android into the sky. Her ears picked up on his loud, chaotic howling easily.

"D-Did you see what she just did?" Baldy's voice echoed from somewhere near the top of the bluffs.

A gulp, very loud and very audible. "She… She tore that guy's jaw off!"

Smirking, now, 18 lifted herself into the air, sparing only a smirk for the two eyesores at the top of the plateau. Vegeta lie behind them, unmoving though his eyes tracked her faithfully as she rose into the air. The One-Armed one… though that would be _No -_Armed one, now, lie unconscious on the ground, shirts and pants tied around his bloody shoulder.

"Raaagh! 'Ou 'itch!"

"Can't hear you, android."

The big blue machine roared in senseless rage and hurtled himself toward her.

She let him come near, so close that she was hit with flecks of his blood as he tried to wrap both of his massive arms around her.

She let him do that too.

Then, he began squeezing, laughing in a horribly distorted mockery of the actual sound.

18 let him do that as well.

Harder, he squeezed. Harder, he laughed.

Yet she remained entirely unaffected, and he appeared entirely unaware of that.

She chuckled under her breath.

'_What a moron.'_

The blue android's laughter stopped, abruptly. The pressure his arms were exerting upon her did not abate, but all sounds he was making did.

"You broke Vegeta's back," she murmured, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. "You tore off One-Arm's arm."

His eyes, previously widened in confusion, narrowed in rage. The pressure his arms were putting upon her redoubled and the blue android roared a wordless – as if he could actually form words, now – shout.

So, slowly, she began to push his arms apart.

The android's eyes darted back down to her when he felt the change, when he felt his limbs being pushed apart. He strained and roared and heaved but, despite his best efforts, his arms were moved away from the blonde android, inch by inch.

"This is easy," 18 muttered, inches from his mutilated face. "Too easy."

She wasn't even out of breath.

Then, she threw her own arms out and forced his away from her utterly and completely. Then, while he was off-balance, she ducked under one of the flailing limbs and planted her feet in his side. Both the blonde android's arms wrapped around one of his own, massive ones and she heaved.

She pulled, she braced herself against his side and attempted to tear the limb off with all her might.

A moment passed in which the android regained his senses but quickly, very quickly, he realized what she was trying to do. He began struggling, spinning in the air and desperately trying to dislodge her. His trapped arm was useless to him now, overpowered as it was, but the other one unleashed red blast after red blast of ki into her gut.

She ignored the blows, barely winding as they were.

"That's anchored pretty securely. The good doctor does good work," she shouted over the panicked android's flailing. She summoned up some of her own, golden ki and unleashed it into the android's armpit. "Let's try loosening the metal first!"

The energy attack, in addition to her strength, _finally _began to overpower the android's arm.

The big man's cries redoubled and he began firing off a constant barrage of energy blasts.

But it was all for naught.

With a yell of exertion and a one last heave, Android 18 tore the arm away from the massive machine.

Ruined bits of metal and scraps of machinery rained down on the Earth below, even as she held the massive limb in both of her arms. Quickly, though, she discarded the thing, dropped it into the plateau where the weaklings watched.

Her gift to No-Arms.

And her gift to Vegeta…

"Now, for your back," she said to the big android.

He straightened from his hunched over position and eyed her warily. For all the energy blasts he put into her gut, he only managed to burn away her dress, which left her in a tattered compression shirt.

And, following his gaze, 18 scowled. She tore away some scraps of flowery cloth that remained around her shoulders. "These clothes aren't cheap, asshole."

He growled something undecipherable at her and backed away from her, slowly. His eyes were swiveling around the surrounding terrain and, though she could not understand his words, she _could _understand his body language.

"Are you… running?" She grinned, ruined teeth on full display. Slowly, she began to close in on it, slivers of golden aura still swirling around her form. "No, no, no… My boyfriend just died and the beast that did it is already dead. I haven't had my nap yet and I need a shower. You just burned my dress and beat up Saint's friends. That's… six reasons more than I need for you to die a slow, painful death."

Upon seeing her approach, the big man's eyes widened. He howled something wordless at her and, after glancing about his person one last time, charged her head on.

Her grin widened and she easily dodged the haphazard charge, kicking the brutalized machine in the back when it passed by her. She then followed him as he plummeted to the ground, landing on his back when he settled amidst the dust and dirt and debris.

"One broken back for Vegeta," she murmured, lifting both of her hands over her head. What remained of her Super Saiyan ki gathered there.

"This is for you, Trunks," 18 said, glancing toward Saint's tree one last time. It was a good distance away, now, but she should still make out his lavender-turned-blue hair. His face was slack but she saw his wide, boyish grin clearly in her mind.

The power in her hands finished gathering and she sighed.

"All for you, love."

Then, in a whisper:

"Finish Buster."

The blue android's skin gave near instantaneously, brutalized and beaten as his body was. The ki burned a hole through his back, his spine and whatever metal counted as organs that lay within his torso. All the way through his chest until it hit the ground beneath him.

She cut off the energy, then.

And the big blue android stopped struggling.

Those who needed her strength were safe.

Its purpose fulfilled, Trunks' Super Saiyan ki – the last this Earth would feel – faded from around her body.

Her intent gone, her loss was quick to embrace her once more. Tears gathered quickly in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks.

18 threw her head back toward the sky and howled.

* * *

_Bulma Briefs – One hour later_

"Where were you?"

It was a good question, all things considered.

Was she catching up with Julie, gossiping with the woman about her son and his new lover? Was she greeting faces long gone and forgotten, crying with friends old and new over the lives restored by Porunga? Was she beginning the work to repair the spaceship after its first and most important journey to date? Was she watching sitcoms on the television so loud her ears rang afterword, clutching a cup of black coffee in shaky fingers?

Where was she when her son was dying?

What was she doing to try and forget he was here, when he was dying?

The clearing around the tree was quiet, filled with more faces she had nearly forgotten in the two decades since she last saw them. Piccolo hovered behind her, stoic and solemn. Krillin and Yamcha stood nearby, both forlorn and looking at the ground. Two bodies lay covered behind them and a third lay wrapped in so many shreds of torn clothing that it took her a moment to recognize the figure as Son Gohan. Vegeta, her long lost lover stood off in the distance, his arms crossed, eyeing the group and the body underneath the tree.

Trunks.

"The Dragon Balls," she whispered, eyes now locked onto her son's still figure. His skin was bruised and bloodied, his eyes shut and his head slumped down onto his chest.

"The Dragon Balls," she repeated, stumbling forward, wide eyed. "The Dragon Balls."

"On New Namek?" 18 demanded, scowling. "You said they can't-"

"Here, on Earth," Piccolo grumbled behind her, never one to be intimidated. Even as the blonde android turned her furious glare on him, he remained unaffected. "Dende can bring them back. With them, we can bring back Tien, Chiaotzu and Trunks."

"Dende," 18 murmured, sounding thoughtful.

Bulma only had eyes for her son, though. For her precious boy, though boy he was not any longer. He stopped being a child when Gohan died… a subtle change took hold of him, a more serious air lingered about him. It was as though he realized just how much pressure was going to be put on his shoulders and despite it being overwhelming, his back was strong enough to carry the hopes of an entire planet.

Until now.

"The Dragon Balls," she murmured, dropping to her knees next to his body. Shaky fingers reached out toward his arm, grasping the skin-

It was cold.

A gasp escaped her and before she was aware of it, tears were running down her cheeks. Trunks' arm flopping lifelessly to the grass beneath him only made it worse.

Her son was dead.

Gone.

The Dragon Balls could be used to bring him back but… the sight in front of her was _horrible_. He was too still, too lifeless! No breath escaped him at all and with every gasp she took in, crushing guilt hit her with the force of a freight train.

What right did she have to live while her son lay dead at her feet?

He did not deserve this. He did not deserve any of this. The pressure he lived under, the villains that robbed him of his childhood!

The androids.

Her eyes snapped up to 18.

She found the blonde woman already sneering down at her.

"Are you happy?" She whispered, eyes wet with tears and wide open. "He's dead, finally dead."

A snarl was quick to pull at 18's lips and the machine stepped forward, fists clenched. "Watch your tone, human."

"This is what you wanted!" Bulma continued, heedless of the android's continued approach. Her vision was beginning to get blurry. "This is what you always, _always _wanted!"

"I didn't want- He's _mine! _I want-"

"He isn't property!" The blue haired woman howled, jumping to her own feet. "He's my-"

A fist buried itself in her gut, courtesy of the machine. She saw it move but, for the life of her, she could not react in time. Her feet left the ground and her body was tossed through the air, her momentum only arrested when her back hit the ground some distance away.

Pain immediately bloomed in her midsection but Bulma did not care for it, not now, not while her son lay dead, not while the woman who tormented him for his entire life still lived. She pushed herself back to her feet and wiped the blood from her lips with a sleeve of her jacket.

"This is always what you wanted, machine," she croaked, stumbling back toward the blonde. Vegeta was between she and it, now, his hair bright yellow and his ki the golden color of a Super Saiyan. "You never wanted-"

"_Don't _tell me what I want, weakling! I want him back!"

"You-" Bulma reeled suddenly, pins and needles blooming across the skin of her abdomen even as Krillin and Yamcha reached her, having broken from their surprised stupor. The pair caught her before she could hit the ground and, as she pitched forward, her eyes found Trunks again.

Lifeless.

A sob tore free from her throat, lighting on fire her innards all over again. That pain mixed with the emotional pain of losing a son, her only son, and suddenly, all she could manage to do was sob. Heaving, body-wracking cries of anguish that left her a mess in the arms of whomever was still supporting her.

She did not care. She did not care for any of it.

Someone shoved a pill into her mouth and, when she tried to spit it out, a hand covered her lips. She was forced to swallow the thing and only then did the hand remove itself. Her bones snapped back into place and the pain from the machine's punch left her immediately.

But still, she cared for none of it. Her vision was almost completely gone, tears having made her sight useless.

Bulma blinked, several times, still wracked with heaving sobs that made breathing difficult, and only just managed to clear her sight enough to see the machine fly off in a rage. Then, the blurriness reasserted itself when her eyes fell upon Trunks' body.

She felt herself be picked up in the next instant, by strong arms covered in dirty blue cloth.

'_Vegeta.'_

The man placed her on the ground shortly thereafter, next to the tree and-

An earthy scent invaded her nose, tinged with a touch of steel.

He placed her next to the tree.

And next to Trunks.

Blindly, still sobbing, she sat up and pulled his head into her lap, fingers finding his hair easily. Hair she'd so carefully cut every other month when it grew too long. Like it was now. She'd been meaning to cut it…

A memory asserted itself in her head, then. Of a younger Trunks flying away with the scissors she was using to cut his hair, the work only half done. She'd denied him a juice box until he was done with his haircut and, evidently feeling surly that particular day, he had decided to fly off.

A burbling sort of laugh worked itself way out of her throat, then, interrupting the sobbing, the crying, and giving her a much-needed chance to breathe.

"Trunks," she murmured, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Trunks… I'm sorry."

Her breathing settled further, then, fingers still fussing with his hair. It was such a mess, now…

"Hey… Bulma?" Krillin muttered, fiddling with his hands and standing some distance away. "Don't worry, okay! We'll get him back for sure!"

He finished by giving her a thumbs up and a wide, cheeky grin.

She laughed again, less wetly and more happily, this time.

"I know, Krillin, I do. I just… Seeing his- His… Seeing himhere was difficult."

"He fought valiantly," Vegeta opined, standing nearby with his arms crossed again. He was staring, unblinkingly at her son. "Like a true Saiyan warrior."

"He's had to protect this world single-handedly for six years," Bulma muttered, eyeing the short man with a mirthless smile, her eyes still stinging. "He had no choice but to become a 'saiyan warrior'."

The black-haired prince harrumphed and turned away.

"Bulma," Piccolo said, voice as baritone as ever. "What happened? We wake up and eighteen years-"

"Nearly two decades. Not… Not that number."

"Nearly two decades," the Namekian allowed, slowly. "A lot of time passed. How did we come back? What happened?"

He was as pragmatic as always, she noted. Even given the circumstances and her son's… accident, the big green man was concerned with matters more pressing to the living.

"You died," she began, fingers stilling themselves and instead resting on Trunks' shoulders. "You died nearly two decades ago, fighting against those machines."

"Right," Krillin said. "I remember that… Those guys were scary powerful! Heck, 18 still-"

"Gohan and Trunks," Bulma said quickly. "They were the only ones who survived, though Trunks was just a baby at the time. Eventually, he grew old enough to fly and fight and train and… Well, he saw Gohan go off to fight… them so very often that he decided he wanted to help. He lost so many friends to the machines… Each one who died, he took as a personal failure. He was determined to fight back. To save as many people as he could."

She swallowed and sniffed, wiping at her eyes one last time to remove what moisture remained there.

"Then, Gohan died around six years ago and Trunks became a Super Saiyan. The entire fate of the world now rested on his shoulders… I could tell the pressure was crushing him and I tried to help! But… But those _machines _just kept killing people and destroying cities and ruining lives! We were desperate! So, so desperate… I built a time machine."

Startled exclamations and gasps escaped the assembled group of fighters, though it was again Piccolo who kept his cool enough to ask the relevant questions.

"Did it work? And where did you two go?"

"It did," she smiled, still proud of the achievement despite the situation. "And I didn't go, just Trunks. He realized he couldn't save this world easily, but he wanted to save the _past_… So he took Goku medicine for his heart."

"So Goku lived!?" Krillin exclaimed, wide eyed and leaning forward.

Bulma nodded and cracked a shaky smile when the bald man jumped for joy.

"Goku lived and together with Trunks' help, The Z-Fighters of the past lived through those machines and through Cell too!"

"Alright," Yamcha shouted, fist pumping even as Krillin nodded, a wide smile on his face now.

"That's good news," Piccolo intoned, pacing closer to the tree. "But you said Trunks wasn't strong enough to save this world. When did that change?"

"That-" She hesitated, because the flight away from Earth seemed like it happened a life time ago. Back when she was beginning to think of the machine as a person, when she forced herself to forget what that thing truly was and just what it was capable of doing. "That happened after Cell attained his perfect form and, well, after he destroyed the planet."

"D-Destroyed?" Yamacha muttered, wide-eyed.

"Destroyed," Bulma muttered. "Trunks, myself and… the android went off to New Namek, because _they _still had their dragon balls."

Piccolo nodded, once, placing one hand on his chin. "Where you wished back the Earth, wished back the people who died, and…"

The blue-haired woman immediately found her thoughts traveling to the third wish, prompted as she was. Of the machine's wish to be able to eat food and… and how she began to see her as more than just a machine.

Bulma screwed her eyes shut, still disgusted with the thought of the android being among the living whilst her son lay dead. That said android had helped to rob Trunks of any and all semblance of a normal childhood only made matters worse. In what kind of world did that monster get to live while her son did not?

Yet, at the same time, so too did her mind prod and poke and whisper incessantly that the android did and still was making an effort to redeem herself. She… She was genuinely trying to be a better person, in her own, somewhat successful, way.

The machine- The android- 18…

'_Ugh.'_

Bulma banished all thought of the blonde from her mind, for she did not want to dwell on them, not just then.

Still, her mind was as logical as ever and that very same mind realized that she was mistaken. That she said things she should not have said, earlier. That the android was… _probably _just as hurt by Trunks' death as she was. That the past should stay there, in the past, so long as 18 remained committed to being a better person.

Which meant Bulma owed her an apology.

The blue haired woman opened her eyes once more, now just… _tired_.

"The third wish," she murmured. "The third wish was made by 18. She, uhm, she wanted to be able to eat food."

An awkward silence fell over them then, punctuated only by Gohan's slightly heavy breathing. The man still looked to be in a bad-

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Gohan!" She turned to Krillin and Yamcha. "Have you given him a Sensu bean?"

Yamcha nodded in a stilted manner, still slack-jawed at the relevation the blonde android wanted to eat food.

In the end, it was Krillin – equally surprised – who spoke up: "So… Android 18 had the chance to wish for… anything? And she just, uhh, wished to eat food?"

A snort escaped her, because the short man's incredulity reminded her so strongly of her own, at the time.

"Yes."

"Huh," Krillin grunted, frowning.

"It sounds like we missed a lot," Piccolo muttered, almost in a growl. "The androids we faced all those years ago didn't seem the type to care for anything but death and mayhem."

"They weren't," Bulma said, quietly, her fingers idly organizing Trunks' messy mop of hair. "At least, not until Trunks captured 18 around six months ago. He kept her in the Gravity Chamber at first, but eventually offered her a chance to redeem herself."

"And… she just did?" Yamcha said, one eyebrow arched and a frown still playing at his lips. "I don't know, Bulma, that seems pretty unlikely."

"If she says it happened," Vegeta snarled. "Then it damn well happened, runt."

Her ex-boyfriend turned to glare at her… sort-of-current-boyfriend.

Piccolo, thankfully, cared not one single whit for the testosterone induced stupidity.

"I think we've heard enough," the big alien nodded, glancing down at her son. "Thank you for answering our questions, Bulma. We've been back for nearly a month, but we couldn't figure out everything on our own."

Krillin murmured his own thanks even as the blue haired woman shrugged.

"No problem," she said, carefully placing Trunks' head back on the roots of the tree. "Now, we have Dragon Balls to find! I don't have my radars with me, so we'll have to go and get them. We'll wish back all the people Cell killed since the Earth was revived!"

A round of cheers answered her – except from the two knuckleheads – and she turned, determined, toward her air car.

Her son _would _be back amongst the living before the day was out, no matter what!

* * *

_Later that night – Trunks_

Awareness returned to him slowly, sluggishly enough that even his waking mind placed it as odd. Years spent living with the android threat meant that sleep came to him easily and left him just as quickly. This time around, though, it was incredibly hard to get his eyes to focus and the gears of his mind to begin turning once more.

A grunt escaped him, quiet and muffled, and he heard an absolutely _monstrous _voice, deep and baritone, roar something nearby.

"**!"**

It was so loud that the ground shook and his ears rang and something deep inside of him roared back. Something primal and dangerous, a part of him only recently discovered-

Power rushed to his fingertips and he lifted himself off the ground with the strength of his ki alone.

-_a raised forearm blocked the monster's jab and his very being raged at the thought it could still match him-_

Fingers clenched into fists even as his aura bled gold, lightning quick to touch its edges.

_-maddening, seething rage gripped his mind in a vice as he released body-shaking blow after body-shaking blow into the corpse-who-did-not-know-it that took her-_

Otherworldly power coalesced, and the lightning grew and grew and grew until it was a constant thing.

_-until none were left but her, none could be left but her, none were left in this dead thing's gut but-_

"**18!" **He roared, muscles bulging, coiling with deadly power even as ki more potent than anything else on the planet shattered the ground upon which he stood. A crater formed around him until his aura settled, snapping and hissing at anything too close to it.

Trunks' eyes, teal and narrowed, snapped open.

The Ascended Super Saiyan was born anew.

In front of him lay Tien and Chiaotzu, just outside the range of his ki. They both appeared dazed and barely clung to the ground with their hands, lest they be blown away. Beyond them lay the shoreline of a sea, wide and big and blue.

He turned and his eyes widened.

For in the opposite direction was a dragon, a very large, very green, very familiar dragon.

'_The Dragon Balls,' _his mind realized. It was not Porunga but then… Earth's?

Dende. Right. They retrieved him and returned to Earth.

His eyes trailed downward and, upon seeing the figures standing just outside the perimeter of his ki, widened all over again.

18\. Mother. Father. Gohan.

Everyone.

His mouth dropped open, the strength of an Ascended Super Saiyan abandoning him in an instance, for his rage could not withstand the sight of his family, friends and loved ones, whole and alive.

"Saint," the blonde android, at the front of the pack, said. A smirk played about her lips, the one that tugged one corner of her lips up. "Only _I _get to kill you, got it?"

And, amidst his mother's teary smile, Gohan's wide grin and his father's steadfast gaze, he laughed.

Trunks laughed.

For the Earth was safe, its denizens no longer knew any threat to their existence. His responsibility to its peoples was, for now, fulfilled.

He could relax.

He could _relax._

Trunks laughed, and tears followed soon after.

For once, they were tears shed of happiness.

* * *

**A/N: **And so ends the story! I hope you guys have enjoyed it, at times it was a slog to write but other times the words just flowed so easily…

Like I mentioned before, I have two or three chapters left to post and the next one will drop on **06/15/2019**.

Till next time,

Phailen


	9. Chapter 9

_One week later – Trunks, West City_

The bell atop the diner's lone entrance rang once more and he glanced up, hopeful, but found only an elderly couple making their way into the local eatery. They looked like another pair of regulars, if the way they warmly greeted the hostess was any indication.

Sighing, Trunks Briefs returned to idly glancing through the menu in front of him.

He sat in a booth in the far back corner of the restaurant, out of sight unless one were specifically looking for him. No one had noticed his presence yet and, today, he preferred it that way. Already a popular, well known face amongst the populace of Earth, his confrontation with – and defeat of – Perfect Cell had ballooned his star-power to levels he never expected. The fight was broadcast by a pair of men who were equally brave and foolhardy for the entire world to watch.

And watch it the world did.

Trunks could scarcely make it a single block in the city now without being stopped by grateful people who wanted to wish him well.

It was a humbling thing, being so loved by so very many people. It was also a very touching thing, that so many people stopped to thank him.

But it was also tiring.

He could no longer go somewhere and blend in. He could no longer be sad or angry in public, lest he meet a fan and accidentally insult or offend them.

That was a lesson he'd learned the hard way, already.

A glass being set in front of him, filled to the top with water, interrupted his half-hearted exploration of the diner's menu.

"Here's your water," the waiter, a boy by the name of Sero, said. "Had a chance to take a look at the menu yet?"

The half-saiyan offered the boy a smile. "Not quite, I'm just waiting on one more."

"Ahh, a lady friend?"

"No," he said, amidst a startled bark of laughter, because he couldn't imagine 18 in this small, tucked-away diner. "No… just a mentor of mine."

The boy's eyes lit up. "Gohan, you mean?"

The smile now a little more forced, Trunks nodded.

Sero glanced around the restaurant, then back at the half-Saiyan in front of him. "Is it true- I mean, well… Shoot, sorry Mr. Trunks, I don't mean to pry…"

Yet clearly he wanted to do just that.

Smile still firmly in place, he shrugged. "I don't mind, I have time, after all."

A grin bloomed on the boy's face. The expression made him look as young as Trunks thought he was. Sero couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

"Is it true he got his arms back because of a dragon?"

"Not quite," he said easily. Questions regarding Shenron were some of the most popular, after all. Nobody had seen the dragon in action but the fact that Gohan got his arms back was not easily missed. One of the Z-Fighters must have mentioned a dragon at some point and, since then, the magical, wish-granting dragon was all the rumor-mill of West City could talk about.

"Just one of our powers, you know?"

That was the canned – somewhat weak – excuse. That it was the same power that granted Saiyans the ability to Ascend that allowed Gohan to regain his arms.

"That's amazing," the boy exclaimed, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. He shook his head. "It must _awesome _flying around and everything…"

Weak though the excuse was, it was also particularly effective. The power to manipulate ki had a wondrous affect on those who witnessed it and often sufficiently distracted them from the subject of magical dragons.

Trunks laughed, honestly amused by the idea that his power was all sunshine and daisies.

"It's as much a burden as it is a blessing," he murmured, smiling in a crooked sort of way. "With great power comes great responsibility, and that responsibility happens to be fighting things like Cell."

Suddenly, Trunks became intimately aware of how close he and Sero were in age, a gap of only three or four years separated them.

Yet, for as close as those numbers were, he still felt… _old_ speaking to the kid.

"That was…" Sero muttered, shaking his head again. "I'm glad you're okay, Mr. Trunks."

The smile on his face bloomed into something genuine. "Thanks, Sero. I'm glad we all made it out to the other side."

Silence fell over them then and, after a few moments, Sero excused himself with a murmured apology to go deal with his other tables.

And, at that very same moment, Gohan entered the restaurant to the sound of a chiming bell. The man was bright-eyed and smiling widely, his eyes trailing over each patron in the diner until he reached the dimly-lit corner in which Trunks sat.

The black-haired man wasted no time in walking over to him, smile turning into a grin as he did.

"This is so stereotypical, Trunks," the man said, by way of greeting. "You, hiding in a dark corner of a small diner. It's like the start of a bad action flick."

A grin of his own touched the lavender-haired saiyan's lips. "Or the ending of one, hopefully."

Gohan hummed his agreement as he took a place on the opposite side of the little booth.

"So," he sighed, leaning back fully into the cushioned seats. "We haven't really had a chance to talk since Cell, huh?"

Trunks shook his head. "Speeches downtown, accepting awards, moving into the new place… It's been busy."

"I heard about that, the new apartment. A high rise, right?"

"Yeah. Since everybody just came back, no one was living in it. The mayor got together with the owners of the building and got it leased to us for a year, free of charge."

Gohan hummed, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed. "Android 18 is moving in with you, then?"

The lavender-haired Saiyan nodded.

"Huh," his dining partner grunted. "It's hard to believe she's _with _us, now, instead of against, you know?"

"Sometimes, I still barely believe it myself."

A silence enveloped them, then. Gohan stared down at the table and Trunks, off into the diner itself. It was near to dinner time now and tables were slowly filling up with local residents. Most were elderly though he spied a young couple with a child and a group of four boys amidst the patrons.

"So," he said, swallowing a gulp of water. "How's Chi-Chi?"

The tension left Gohan's arms and he smiled, glancing back up. "Mom's good. Overbearing as I remember, heck, even _more _overbearing! For me it's only been… Well, she lost her son and I felt like I just saw her yesterday."

"She was one of the people most opposed to 18 getting a second chance," Trunks said and almost immediately grimaced after he finished.

The black-haired Saiyan frowned. "Can you blame her?"

A sigh escaped him, he shook his head.

"Look, Trunks," Gohan said, leaning forward on his elbows. "I trust you. If you say Android 18 is on our side now, I'll believe it. Heck, she helped us beat Perfect Cell and those three androids. She even ended her brother! But doing that… Doing that doesn't erase two decades of… Of everything else she did."

"She knows," he said, swallowing heavily. "She just doesn't care. She understands- She's like a child, Gohan. When I found her and captured her…" He shook his head. "Dr. Gero basically taught her to kill and murder to get whatever she wanted."

The elder half-saiyan remained silent, eyes intent, so Trunks continued.

"I showed her that people are good. I showed her everything she was missing just… just rampaging through the world, stealing and killing and destroying. She didn't catch on instantly but, eventually, she saw my way of things."

Silence fell over them once more as he stopped speaking, only broken by the clattering of silverware and murmuring of voices in the background.

"I trust you," Gohan said, at length. "Besides, it's not my responsibility to punish her… I understand she's been helping out around the community?"

"To mixed response," Trunks said, smiling wryly despite the topic of conversation. "She tries to help people and I think people are trying to accept her, since everyone is back and alive… But it's a slow process. She thinks she's their better in all things and gets pretty upset if someone shows her up."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, scratching an itch on his forehead. "Like… she didn't know that she couldn't just blast roads away when they were getting re-paved because she might damage pipes or something else underground… Managed to take out water for half a city for three whole days."

Gohan grinned. "That… That's both terrifying and hilarious, Trunks."

"Yeah," he agreed. "The lack of common life skills combined with her power… No wonder she just resorted to destroying things. The world is a complicated place to live in, when you don't know how."

"I'd drink to that, but I don't seem to have anything," the black-haired man said, glancing out over the diner. "Let's order some food, then I'll tell you about what _I've _been up to this past week. You know, a guy whose life isn't followed on every major television channel on the planet."

A rueful grin touched Trunks' lips even as he waved down Sero. "Yeah? Been farming a lot of fields, huh?"

The man barked a short burst of laughter. "No, Trunks, this country hick actually managed to meet a girl!"

"Oh? Chi-Chi browbeat someone into dating _you?_"

"Laugh while you can, Trunks," Gohan said as Sero approached. "But Videl could beat the _snot _out of 18!"

* * *

_Later that night – Android 18, West City_

She had a problem.

A problem that could not be solved by blowing up whatever said problem was. No, actually, in this case blowing up her problem would make said problem worse.

18 was trying to take out the trash.

She _knew _how to do that. The bag went in those little bins she used to see all over the city, the ones that people would put on street corners for some inane reason, like they were just supposed to magically empty themselves so the process could repeat.

But now, she was downtown, in a very tall building, living in what Saint Saiyan called a 'penthouse'.

Why it was not called an apartment, like every other apartment in this _apartment _building, 18 did not know.

The garbage bag crinkled in her hand when she clenched her fists, thereby reminding her of her issue by way of an _absolutely _foul stench.

The bag nearly went out her apart-penthouse's window right then and there.

'_Why is living like a weakling so difficult?'_

Fuming, she carried the bag to her window, to see if she could spy any of those green bins near the streets. Unfortunately, the weaklings seemed to do things differently when they lived downtown, for the android could not find a single trash bin within sight.

Never mind the bigger, green bins – the ones that were fun to throw. The dumpsters, as they were called. She saw none of those either.

'_Where do these idiots put their trash?!'_

The sound of her front door opening reached her ears then and she swung around toward it, narrow eyed and frowning. The trash bag settled noisily from the movement at her side, drawing the attention of the man in the doorway – Saint Saiyan himself, in his stupid human-knowing flesh.

He blinked, eyes flickering up and down her body, frowning minutely himself.

"18," he began slowly. "Are you… taking out the trash?"

She _could _just ask him for help. But she wasn't quite ready to give up on doing it herself, yet. The weaklings had systems and rules and frameworks in place for what seemed like everything. Before, she ignored them. Now, she would learn them.

They were only human, after all. How hard could it be?

"_I _am taking out the trash, Saint. Not you."

The man's mouth moved without sound for a moment before he shrugged and stepped fully inside, removing his boots while he did so. They were placed on the happy little mat his mother had gotten them, the one emblazoned with bright yellow and pink words that read 'Welcome'.

"Did you replace the- Nevermind," he said, looking into the trash can. "I'll do it."

18 felt her eye twitch and annoyance rose up in her again. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she wanted to do this herself because _stupid weaklings weren't going to outsmart her!_

"I'm doing this, Saint, not you. Don't touch that bag!"

The idiot Saiyan froze again and glanced toward her; his eyes promptly did that flickering thing up and down her body and, this time, a grin broke out on his face instead of a frown.

"Go ahead, then," he muttered, leaning back against the kitchen's black marble countertops, grin having shrunk down to a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed. She knew full well what he was doing. She was also certain that he knew _she _had no idea how to take out the stupid trash.

And he found the whole thing amusing.

At her expense.

That just wouldn't do.

Out the window it was.

"Ah- 18!" He barked when she opened the window. "What are you doing?!"

"Taking out the trash," she answered, one of those fake smiles on her face, like the ones she saw on some older weaklings faces when they complimented her.

He ran across the wide, open room that served as their living room, dining room and kitchen. Once he was to her, he grabbed the arm she had thrust out of the window, trash bag dangling from her fingertips. Saint took that from her – a relief, for weakling food smelled _bad _very quickly – and tugged on her arm.

"Come on," he said, shaking his head. The grin was back on his face.

"There's no bin on the street. Or dumpsters," she supplied, crossing her arms as she paced after him.

He didn't respond, only hummed to let her know he heard her. A habit he'd gotten into recently after she let him know just what she thought of being ignored.

They walked out into the hallway leading to their door, one of only four on the entire floor. Their place, another resident's, the elevator and the stairs. The entire thing was a straight line that spanned the length of the building, running down the center. Each apart-penthouse was on either side of it.

There was also a tiny door at waist height in the hallway, one she assumed was an oven. An odd place for it, but the weaklings already did things that made no sense – like hugging people as a greeting – so why not put an oven in a hallway?

Coincidentally, it was that tiny door to which Saint Saiyan led her.

"This is the trash chute," he said, stopping next to the thing and opening it with a hand.

The door slid open from a hinge on the bottom and the silvery metal formed a sort of ramp that led down into the darkness of whatever was on the other side of the wall.

"Trash chute?" She asked, half certain she knew what it was but wanting to be certain all the same.

"You throw your trash – in bags – down the chute. It all falls into a… A compactor, I think. Or a dumpster… It goes where all the rest of the trash in the building goes."

She blinked, cupping her chin. "Where the trash weaklings take care of it. That's convenient. Why doesn't Bulma have one?"

"Well," he rubbed at the back of his neck. "She doesn't live in a building tall enough to have one. I think these are only in buildings like this one, with multiple floors of people."

"It goes down to the bottom of the building?" The blonde android murmured, somewhat impressed that the builders of this place had thought of that. It made their trash system much easier to execute, at least.

Curious, now, she leaned toward the little door and tried to stick her head in.

Only to be stopped when it refused to open far enough to fit her upper body within it.

"Careful! People aren't suppose to go down chutes, 18. For humans it's dang-"

_Screeeeeeech._

She discarded the door, freshly torn off of the wall, on the floor nearby. That out of the way, she stuck the better part of her upper body into the chute, looking up first and finding solid metal – which made sense, given she and Saint lived on the top floor of this place. Then, she looked down and found that the chute really did stretch to the bottom of the building, or at least far down enough that she could not tell where it ended.

"Impressive," she decided, taking their trash bag from Saint Saiyan's nerveless fingers and tossing the thing into the chute. It made a series of satisfying _clangs _and _crashes _on the way down to the bottom.

18 turned then to find Trunks giving her an unimpressed stare, the type he used to use often whilst she was his captive in the gravity chamber. Lips pressed into a firm line, eyes half lidded, arms crossed.

Oh yeah, he was disappointed.

Probably because she wrecked the weaklings' things again.

Whatever.

She grabbed the little metal door where it lay on the floor and wasted no time in shoving the thing back into place.

_Screeeeeech._

"There," she grunted, turning back to him. "Good as new. The weaklings won't know the difference."

Saint gave her no response, having covered his mouth with one hand. Said hand was also pulling at the skin of the lower half of his face, which made those half-lidded eyes look utterly stupid instead of superior.

'_Whatever.'_

18 turned on her heel and began walking back to their apart-penthouse door.

"Trash is taken care of. Don't worry, Saint, I'll put a new bag in the bin."

* * *

_Three weeks later – Trunks, West City_

A mess of capsule parts and the objects they contained lay scattered about the desk in front of him. His mother had assigned him the task of expanding the size of the items Capsule Corps' iconic technology were capable of containing. Currently, something the size of the time machine was doable but the goal was to eventually hold objects the size of the spaceship.

It was delicate work, but it was also rewarding. It taxed his intellect in ways fighting never could, made him utilize skills that, for the better part of his life, he never thought he would get to use. Amidst the sounds of West City's thriving downtown and under the light of the sun shining through the window over his desk, Trunks was peace while he labored.

The creak of the penthouse suite's front door sounded behind him and he heard the door swing wide open as his lover, Android 18, entered.

He placed the capsule back down on the desk.

"Trunks?" She called from the front door, the sound of the door quietly shutting and the lock clicking into place followed shortly thereafter. "Are you here?"

"I'm here," he called in response, turning around at his desk – placed up against the far wall in their living room/dining room/kitchen space. It was essentially one massive, long room, with hardwood floors and high, high ceilings. Their balcony lay to one side of the space, beyond massive glass windows, whilst their master bed and bath was upstairs.

"Good," 18 said as she rounded the entryway corner. Her purse – a new 'fad' that she decided to try – was immediately sat on the counter. "I'm pregnant."

He frowned. "Can you not put that on… Uhh." He blinked, once, twice, as her words filtered into his head.

Pregnant meant a baby. In her. And if it was in her, then he was the father. Which meant _he_ had-

"Oh," he breathed. "You- But- That's… We're pregnant?"

"_I'm _pregnant, Saint," she clarified, digging in the refrigerator for her blueberries – the strawberries already sat on the counter next to the smoothie ma-

"18!" He shouted, jumping up out of his chair. "You're pregnant!"

The android, whom he startled into whirling around toward him with the exclamation, narrowed her just-widened eyes at him over the box of blueberries in her fingers.

"Yes," she said, simply, eyes still narrowed. The blonde put the plastic container down on the counter and her hands on her hips.

"Wh- But, how? When? I mean, we used protection!"

"Are those serious questions?"

He shook his head. "Ohhh, we need cribs! I mean, _a _crib. And a room. We don't have a baby room- Diapers! We're gonna need diapers too, 18!"

"Yeah, Saint, babies need that stuff. They need milk too, which your mother says I can handle. Dr. Gero didn't mess with that part of me, at least."

Her part said, she turned back to her blueberries, muttering under her breath-

"We aren't even married," Trunks muttered, wide-eyed. "And we're young! We're… Parents?"

"Look, Saint, if you want to make sense any time soon, that'd be great," 18 said, stepping around the kitchen island and pacing toward him. "And unless I'm missing something obvious with weaklings, we don't need to be married to have a baby."

"But your reputation!"

She snorted, closing the remaining distance between them until she was within arms' reach. "You're an idiot. The only reason we're getting married is if we both want to get married."

"But I do," he protested, his mind still spinning. "I mean, if you want to, that is… And not because of the baby! I mean, I'd rather- Oh… Ohhhhh, we're having a baby."

He felt light-headed all of the sudden and groped blindly behind him until he found his desk. Messily, he scattered the capsules he was working on so he could sit.

"Saint," 18 called, snapping. "Saint. Look at- Good. You want to get married?"

Silently, because words were difficult now, he nodded.

The blonde returned the gesture. "Good, I'll expect a proposal soon. Before or after I have the kid, because I'm not getting married while I'm pregnant."

He nodded, mutely, staring over her shoulder. They'd have to move, because this place wasn't big enough for baby too. Clothes and food and diapers and- And the wedding! And the proposal!

_He _needed to do that part.

"Saint!"

Fingers, thin and delicate and so familiar, grasped his chin until he was looking his lover in the eye again.

"Proposal. No wedding while pregnant. I'm going to have a daughter and she's going to wear my wedding dress, I can't exactly force her to get pregnant to do that."

He couldn't even find the words to tell her how absurd that sentence was. He couldn't really find the words for anything, anymore.

"Saint!"

Fingers touched his chin again and his gaze returned to her face, eyes narrowed in a glare he could never match, mouth upturned on one side in a smirk.

'_God, she's beautiful.'_

"I'm glad you want to get married, Saint. I was think-mmph!"

Who needed words anyway?

* * *

**A/N: **I cannot tell you how difficult this was for me to write. I kept going "What's the conflict, what's the resolution?" but in chapters like this that doesn't really fly. It made me realize how unused to writing happy, go-lucky stuff I am.

Weird, right?

In other news, I have less scenes in here than I planned. The Blues winning the Stanley Cup can be blamed for that (Also, fanfiction for being dumb and not letting me post stuff/login!). The city is alive in a way I've never seen before right now, sorry to the Bruins fans out there but I am so, so happy we took home the series!

**Thank you **to the people who reviewed this story and thank you to the people who read it too. We're nearing the 'end game' so to speak and I've enjoyed writing this as much as I hope you've enjoyed reading it! Since this chapter was light on content, we've probably still got 2-3 epilogues left.

Next chapter will drop on **06/28/19.**

And with that, I bid you adieu!

Till next time,

Phailen


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